


helter skelter (same shit, different day)

by lavendori



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Swap, Canon Compliant, First years as second years, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH387, Slow Burn, here’s what happens when you put kagetsuki in a pressure cooker, hints at future tsukki captaincy, some manga spoilers possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendori/pseuds/lavendori
Summary: A few days after a typical argument breaks out between Kageyama and Tsukishima, the two of them wake one morning to mysterious circumstances and an unwelcome surprise.(6:59 AM) From: 月島Tsukishima? Is that you?Kei rolls his eyes as he types back a response.(7:02 AM)Yes Your Royal HighnessWho else would it be?> How the fuck should I know I woke up in your body anything could go wrong





	1. when i get to the bottom

**Author's Note:**

> uwahhhh i finally started my body swap kagetsuki au!! it's an idea i had around last year but the more i write it, the more i keep falling in love with it and their relationship. it's been a pleasure writing these two and the journey has only just begun! hopefully, if all goes well, you all will be in for a wiiiiild emotional ride. without further ado, here it is and i really hope you all enjoy this! :)
> 
> and no i will not stop using beatles songs for tsukki :D
> 
> also! special thanks to my dear friend [ErinNovelist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/pseuds/ErinNovelist) ([@thirdstrikes](https://twitter.com/thirdstrikes)) for always listening to me ramble about this fic, giving me good pointers for volleyball plays, and for always supporting me and my writing endeavors no matter what they are. ;_; a big chunk of this fic would not be possible without you!!

♚

**.**

**.**

**.**

By the middle of their second year, Tobio can sum up his interactions with Tsukishima in four words: same shit, different day.

Yamaguchi had always said they got along like oil and water. Tobio has never really understood what this means. He wouldn’t have given Tsukishima a second thought after considering his height if Tsukishima hadn’t thrown him such piercing jabs the first day they met. What had he wanted from him anyway? It isn’t Tobio’s fault if Tsukishima wants to act so… oily. (Or maybe _ Tobio’s _ the oily one? Whatever.)

To their credit, they don’t butt heads as often these days. Compared to their first year, the conflicts have been much fewer and farther between now than before. But every once in a while — a missed jump, his snide retorts, another mismatched hit — _ something _ will still happen to bring it all bubbling back up to the surface.

Thankfully, today’s practice had started out strong. It had begun with a good serve and has remained promising with each set. Every serve he hits, every connection made on court, each point scored from his tosses, leaves a pleasant tingle in his fingertips. He’d had an excellent pork curry bun earlier in the day and the effects have been favorable. The general feeling throughout his body is good all around. Better yet, the last three practices have been like this: uplifting, invigorating, weightless. A perfect lead up to the Interhigh preliminaries.

They have a practice match scheduled today with the neighborhood association and are now well into their third match. With a big tournament coming up, everyone has been fired up and determined to work as hard as possible over the next few days. Hinata, of course, never allowing Tobio a moment of rest. Their rhythm of _ call, toss, spike _keeps him on his toes, in a good way. Despite having gone to Nationals the year before, the neighborhood association has been keeping up, although Tobio knows it’s mostly because Karasuno has been trying new things on the fly.

As the game progresses, the more energized Hinata seems to get. Tsukishima, on the other hand, not so much.

The first time he doesn’t jump as high as Tobio knows he can for a toss during the second set, Tobio holds back. He’s gotten a little better at pushing down the instinctive criticism that rises up in him, but the retort is still there on the tip of his tongue. As if Tsukishima had known exactly what he’d been thinking, however, he glances over at Tobio and scowls at the look on his face. Tobio doesn’t bother toning his expression down. He knows Tsukishima knows what he did wrong and there’s no reason to hide his displeasure at that.

They’re in the final set and losing by 2 points, with the neighborhood association at score 21, when it happens a second time. This time, it hadn’t been a jump for Tobio’s toss, but for an opposing spike Tsukishima definitely could have blocked.

And that marks the moment Tobio’s careful resolve goes to shit.

“I know you had a second jump in you!” he yells before he can stop himself.

Tsukishima is bent over trying to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. Sweat rolls down Tobio’s neck as well. He gets it. They’re all a little tired. But he’s played with Tsukishima long enough to know he can pull out more energy from his reserve than this miserable show of effort. They haven’t even been playing that long in comparison to when they were at nationals. There is no excuse.

“You don’t say?” he manages to rasp. “Well. My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Tobio’s jaw clenches and he takes a step forward.

“What did you—?”

“Don’t mind don’t mind!” Hinata suddenly yells as he slaps both of them behind the back. “We’ll get the next one!”

Tobio grumbles and returns to his position, rubbing his shoulder. It isn’t so much the lost point that angers him, but the sheer fact that Tsukishima is fully capable of pulling such a feat off, but _ didn’t _.

Sufficiently pissed off, Tobio turns away from Tsukishima and tries to refocus as the neighborhood association gets ready to serve.

His mood doesn’t improve as the game goes on. They rally for a few turns, Tanaka spikes one in, Ennoshita is next to serve, and Tsukishima just barely hits the ball Tobio tosses to him in the next round. Stumbling forward after the spike, he glares at Tobio, as though daring him to say something. The notion sends another surge of anger coursing through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to shout even though they’ve just scored a point.

It’s a tense battle by the time it nears the third hour of practice. After seizing a deuce, their two teams have continued moving neck and neck, each barely allowing the other space to breathe.

They’re only one point away from losing the match when one of the opposing spikers attempts to hit a cross. Fortunately, Tsukishima’s successfully gotten a read on him, and his hand moves just in time to give it a one touch. By the time Nishinoya gets it back in the air, however, Tobio realizes at once the tricky position they’re in. In the split second before the ball falls into his palms, he sneaks a glance at the blockers on the other side — their gaze, their positions, their movements — the best option for his toss would be… but whether he’ll rise up to it or not… _ No. _ He _ has _ to. It’s the only way.

The moment the ball grazes his fingers, Tobio launches it off, sending it in the exact direction he means to — high above Tsukishima’s head. The trajectory follows a perfect arc as Tsukishima raises his hand, ready to spike, a horrified look in his eyes as he watches it soar right over his fingertips and straight out of bounds.

The _ thwack _ of the ball hitting the ground reverberates throughout the gym. Tsukishima lands on both feet with a loud thud as the high-pitched trill of a whistle signaling their loss pierces their ears. Straightening up, the middle blocker whips around towards Tobio with a thunderous glare on his face.

“A little warning next time you try and pull that maneuver on me again?”

Tsukishima wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand while Hinata fetches the ball. Tobio doesn’t waver. His precision had been on point. The only thing missing is a few centimeters of Tsukishima’s jump.

“You were in the best position for that score!” he snipes back. “Why weren’t you more prepared?”

“Do you realize you were demanding a slide hit?” Tsukishima challenges. “At that angle and with such short notice? Completely reckless! Maybe you think you can pull off all these fancy moves yourself but if you haven’t noticed, the rest of us peasants aren’t all on your level!”

Tobio’s scowl deepens. “You had it in you, I know you did!”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes and steps forward. “I know how difficult it is for anything to penetrate that stubborn head of yours but as I’ve _ told _ you many times before, I’m not a machine! I’m not Hinata!”

“Which is why I set it to _ your _ perfect spike height, not his!” Tobio shouts, clenching his fists. Tsukishima’s insult rings like an incessant siren in his ears. He feels the familiar rage rise up in him, and it drives him forward despite the warning bells in his ears. “It’s not my fault you didn’t jump in time!”

“… Ah. My bad. Didn’t realize the tyrant king’s reign lasted all month.”

A vein pulses in Tobio’s temple. Gritting his teeth, he takes a step forward. His knees and arms shake from anger, rattling his chest with a sudden flare of desire to punch those stupid glasses straight into Tsukishima’s face.

“Come again?” he asks in a low, dangerous voice.

Right as Tsukishima is about to open his mouth, Tobio feels a pair of hands on his shoulders and is dragged backwards as someone from the team shoves him away from the net. He stumbles out of bounds and whips around to see Tanaka glowering at him with his arms crossed.

“Get a grip on yourselves!”

“Scary…” one of the first years whispers from the back.

“Man, this is like the third time this week…” another shivers beside them.

Ukai walks over to stand between them.

“I don’t think you two need to be told twice,” he says. “You’ve been teammates long enough and should know how to get along by now. Preliminaries is coming up in a week. Do better.”

Tobio catches Hinata hiding a snicker behind their coach out of the corner of his eye. With a loud huff, he turns away and walks off the court to retrieve his water bottle. Once they’ve all had a chance to rehydrate, the team gathers back together in the center of the gym, ready to hear the usual post-practice match spiel. Tobio continues to fume as Ukai starts to give them a rundown of the strengths they’ve displayed today and a few suggestions for what to work on for next week. He and Tsukishima stare determinedly ahead, both refusing to acknowledge the other. Once Takeda adds in his own piece, Ukai moves on to a pre-tournament pep talk and then finally, dismissal.

The second Ukai releases them, Tsukishima slaps his towel over his shoulder and bolts out the door. Displeasure twists in Tobio’s stomach at his harried movements but he tries to shove it aside. Fortunately, it’s a Friday, which means he won’t have to see Tsukishima over the weekend. Once Tsukishima is gone, Hinata turns his neck and throws Tobio an accusatory look.

“What?” he asks him once everyone leaves the gym. As per usual, Hinata had volunteered the two of them to stay behind and clean up the net when in actuality, they fully intend to continue practicing.

“Nothing,” Hinata says as he walks over to the cart. After grabbing a volleyball, he turns back to face him with a wide grin. Eyebrows raised, he tilts his head at Tobio, feigning innocence. “Well? Aren’t we going to play?”

Tobio narrows his eyes at him. If Hinata isn’t going to talk about it, then he certainly isn’t going to bring it up either.

“Yes,” he replies, whipping away from him to step back onto the court. “Obviously.”

“Yachi!!” Hinata cries out towards the exit where Yachi is just about to put on her jacket by the door. “Can you stay a bit longer?”

Their manager blinks and pauses her actions. “Oh — sure!”

Shrugging her outerwear back off, she joins them in the center of the court where the cart full of volleyballs sits waiting.

The ritual between the three of them is the same: Yachi throws, Tobio sets, Hinata spikes. For the next ten minutes, Tobio loses himself in deep focus, concentrating hard on each toss, tweaking every next one into perfect precision. They fall into an easy rhythm of _ call, toss, spike, call, toss, spike _. Like always, the repetition mesmerizes him, lulls him into a comfortable flow, allowing most of the rage from the day to finally peel off and fall away.

Without fail, Hinata hits them all, sending a satisfying _ thwap _ reverberating each time his hand smacks the ball. Energized rather than drained from practice, his spikes only get more accurate with every toss Tobio shoots his way.

Hinata’s jumps have definitely improved a lot. They’re no longer the clumsy _ hoppity hops _ they used to be when they first joined Karasuno. There’s power and intent behind his kick offs and landings now. He’s come a long way since that day in the courtyard, back when he received with his face more than his arms, when they’d been practicing for hours so Tobio could guarantee his spot as a setter.

It’s funny to think about it now. He remembers that night vividly: how determined Hinata had been, how unnerving his tenacity was as he jumped back up every time, only to ask for one more throw. How they’d gotten the ball stuck in a tree and how neither of them ever seemed to be getting tired. They’d practiced well into the evening, only stopping because their session was interrupted when, out of nowhere, someone stuck out a hand to catch the ball above Hinata’s head, only for it to be none other than—

Tobio winces. The sudden memory of glinting glasses, curly blond hair, and a wily smirk flashes across his mind, sending a fresh burst of anger erupting in his chest.

When the ball falls to him, it barely grazes his palm before he sends it launching off in Hinata’s general direction, a lot harder and faster than he’d intended to.

“Wh-whoa!”

Hinata’s hand slips trying to hit the spike but his momentum propels him onward, arms scrambling as he crashes face first into the net.

“Are you okay?” Yachi frets at once, running up to him. Timid and worried as ever, she hovers awkwardly around the net, looking uncertain of how to help.

“I’m good, Yaachan!” Hinata cries out as he tries to disentangle himself. “Don’t worry!”

After removing one of his arms from a hole in the net, he drops back onto his feet and glares at Tobio. “What the hell was that?”

Tobio glares back, more out of instinct than reactive anger. He knows he’s the one at fault. In the short time span that he’d thrown the toss too hard, his breathing had gone ragged, just like it’d done that night in the courtyard after Tsukishima taunted him.

But he shouldn’t be letting Tsukishima get under his skin this much — it doesn’t make any sense that he does at all.

Still gasping for air, Tobio glances away and doesn’t respond. He wouldn’t be able to explain it anyway.

“Oh, hey—” Hinata’s voice shifts into nervous concern as Tobio clenches his jaw in a further attempt to steady himself. “Kageyama, are you — are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Tobio snaps, more harshly than he’d intended. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hinata doesn’t flinch. With a huge pout, he throws his arms up in exasperation. “I don’t know! You’re the one who’s acting all weird, like you’re overworked or something!”

“Ah, yeah — I noticed it too,” Yachi chimes in. “Maybe we should call it a night?”

“I’m not overworked,” Tobio says at once, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I can still play.”

“Then why the hell did you toss it like_ ‘fwaaah’ _?!”

Tobio purses his lips, doing his best to stare down the challenge in Hinata’s eyes and get him to give it up and move on. After nearly two years of playing volleyball together, however, it doesn’t seem to work. Long gone are the days he could intimidate Hinata into backing down. Instead, Hinata seems to only glare harder, raising an eyebrow as he waits expectantly for Tobio’s response.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demands when Tobio still doesn’t say anything.

Tobio narrows his eyes. With a loud huff, he turns away and starts to walk off the court.

“Fine then,” he says as he passes Yachi. “We’ll call it a night.”

“Wha — K-Kageyama! Wait!” Hinata shouts after him. Tobio hears the pitter-patter of feet follow and stops in his tracks as Hinata whooshes past him and leaps into the air in front of him. “You can’t just leave like that!”

“Watch me,” he growls, shoving Hinata aside once he lands. Of course, his teammate refuses to budge.

“Get out of my way,” Tobio tries again, pushing against Hinata’s shoulder. Hinata latches himself onto one of his arms and plants his feet firmly on the ground, pushing back hard.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Hinata repeats through gritted teeth. Clenching his jaw, Tobio reaches around to grab a fistful of Hinata’s shirt in an attempt to pry him off, but before they can even begin to wrestle, a high pitched yelp causes them to freeze.

“P-please don’t fight!” Yachi calls out frantically from behind. When they both look over at her, she startles and bows her head, clapping her hands above her in an apologetic stance. “J-just a precaution! Although… I’m — I’m sorry, Kageyama-kun, but we _ are _ your teammates. It’s well within our rights to be concerned if something feels wrong, and with all due respect, Hinata’s right. You seem a little worked up about something.”

The great, big scowl on Tsukishima’s face from earlier that practice flashes through Tobio’s head again. Letting go of Hinata, he brings a hand up to rub at his temple. _ What’s gotten into him? _

Tobio lets out a big sigh. He can’t really refute what Yachi has said, so there’s no use denying it.

“I don’t have to talk about it,” he mutters instead.

Hinata crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Does this have to do with the fight with Tsukishima earlier?”

Tobio’s eye twitches. _ How can he tell? _

“That was hardly a fight!” Tobio deflects. “And it happens all the time. Why would today be any different?”

_ Yeah, why _ would _ it be different? _

Hinata gives him a quizzical look. “What do you mean? That’s exactly what it is — it’s _not_ any different. It’s the same every time. Whenever you two get into an argument and it doesn’t get resolved, you get all unnerved and stuff afterwards!”

Tobio’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Unnerved?” he echoes. _ Is that what’s going on here? _

“Totally!” Hinata nods with a smug smile, holding up a finger. “I noticed it from day one. The first time we met Tsukishima, you were super worked up after he and Yamaguchi left and you hit the ball at me extra hard, even though it was dark and I told you it was unsafe. Of course, it’s no surprise that you didn’t listen to me, you never do so I don’t know why I even bothered to—”

“I didn’t—” Tobio interrupts. “_ I wasn’t that worked up _.”

Hinata gives him an affronted look for cutting him off, then replies, “You totally were. Like, I thought you were this arrogant hardass when I met you — well, actually you still are — but the point is! I didn’t think anything could get under your skin until Tsukishima came around.”

Tobio grimaces. “Tsukishima gets under everyone’s skin. Including yours.”

“Well, yeah,” Hinata pouts, looking put out to have to admit it. “That’s because he really is just like a prickly cactus all over. But you two _ especially _never get along. Never have and never do. Although… I suppose you’re prickly too… is this what happens when you put two prickly people together? Hmm…”

A vein throbs in Tobio’s head as Hinata trails off, continuing to muse on under his breath about plants and trees and the moon. In a low voice, Tobio asks, “So what’s the point of bringing this up?”

“Hah?” Hinata shakes himself out of his reverie and looks up at him. With a shrug, he replies, “I don’t know. It’s always been like this and you always get worked up. So I don’t know, maybe you should try talking to him about it.”

Tobio tries to imagine it. Where would he even start? Tsukishima’s the one who picked and prodded at him in the first place. And anyway, Tobio isn’t good with words. He’d have to talk through his reluctant mouth and no matter how he phrased it, it would probably come off sounding bitter and commanding to Tsukishima regardless. The look of disgust that would distort Tsukishima’s face if Tobio ever tried to do such a thing flashes across his mind, causing a fresh bout of rage to flare up at the pit of his stomach.

Gritting his teeth, he glowers down at Hinata. “Why? It’s his problem, not mine.”

“It’s both your problems!” Hinata snaps back, exasperated. “Do you know how often you guys butt heads? It causes a lot more bumps and rough patches in our team cohesion than you know. Don’t you think it’s about time you two finally settled your differences? I don’t want anymore flopped tosses from you! And besides, if you really stop to think about it, we’ve never seen a time when you and Tsukishima _ don’t _ get into fights. Suga-san used to say communication is key in a volleyball match. It’s been two years now! Can you imagine how much more awesome our team would be if you and Tsukishima could _ actually get along? — _Right, Yachi?”

“W-what?” Yachi squeaks, surprised as usual at being asked for an opinion. “O-oh… yeah. Yeah, it would.”

“Tell him, Yachi!” Hinata shouts, like the obnoxious buffoon he is. “Tell Kageyama how much better it’d be!”

Yachi lets out an apologetic laugh. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you two worked out your differences. But for what it’s worth, I think you and Tsukishima-kun have the potential to be really great partners!”

Tobio raises an eyebrow. _ Really great partners? _

It’s true. Tsukishima is a valuable player. Tobio knows this. He has observed him long enough to have seen it firsthand. He’s intelligent and meditative. Plans out long building plays and ideas that Tobio could only dream of conceiving of. He’s shown time and time again that he’s not a blocker to be underestimated.

But regardless, they’ve never been good at this — this whole friendship thing in general — especially the warm, fuzzy, openness thing that Hinata and Yamaguchi seem to be so at ease with. They’ve always had a rough start. Whatever relationship exists here has been rotten from the beginning along with Tsukishima’s rotten attitude upon their first meeting.

_ Really great partners? _Tobio snorts. He highly doubts that.

Taking a deep breath, he releases it and steps forward, barreling past Hinata.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” Hinata demands as he collects his belongings by the wall.

“Home,” he replies, flinging his towel around his neck. “I’m done for today.”

“Wha — Kageyama!” Hinata calls after him. “Were you even listening?! That was so rude! And to Yachi of all people! Get back here and apologize!”

But Tobio merely straightens his neck and keeps his head up high as he pushes open the door and steps out into the night.

* * *

**Sat, October 18**

**Hinata Shouyou** 11:43 AM _   
_ _ HEY rude-geyama — have you thought more about what we said last night? _

**Hinata Shouyou** 12:05 PM _   
_ _ Come on you can’t ignore us forever ~,~ _

_ Anyway… _

_ Yamaguchi and I were thinking of going to the temple tomorrow to wish for good luck before the preliminaries _

_ All the second years together _

_ Wanna come? _

_ It’d be a good opportunity too if you and Tsukishima ever wanted to start trying to get along… _

**Hinata Shouyou** 12:41 PM   
_ KAGEYAMA!!!!! _

**Hinata Shouyou** 10:55 PM   
_ :(( _

* * *

Tobio wakes on Sunday morning to a cold autumn day.

Turning over in bed, he wraps his blanket closer around his neck, enclosing himself in a cotton armor against the chilly air in his room.

No practice again today. Which means it’s been two days since the last fight with Tsukishima, and neither of them have said anything. Which means everything is normal.

Same shit, different day.

Yawning, he stretches out on his bed and grabs his phone. It’s just about a quarter past nine, 12°C outside. Good weather for a nice run and cup of milk inside afterwards. Sitting up, he swipes Hinata’s last text away and swings his legs over before hopping out of bed.

The air outside is crisp yet mild, a cool breeze that’s just beginning to develop a bite. The slowly changing leaves bring out a deeper blue in the skies above, a cerulean canopy holding wisps of white clouds in its expanse.

Tobio runs on, making note of the first kilometer mark as he passes through a street lined with trees. As always, the rhythmic movements of his arms and legs paired with the slap of his shoes on concrete helps to clear his mind. He feels calm and boundless, in tune with his physical condition, all mental and emotional states loose and light.

The scenery passes him by as he continues down the usual path — bushes, flower beds, residential gates. Free from distractions, however, Tobio’s mind flits around, allowing space for more dormant thoughts to surface. Before he knows it, Hinata’s words float back to him in his head just as he turns a corner.

_ ‘Don’t you think it’s about time you two finally settled your differences?’ _

_ Differences. _ Tobio frowns. Funny word to describe the sheer rage and clashing of wills Tsukishima provokes in him, the unsettling peel of words digging under his skin, and the way it pierces him with pinpoint precision through layers and layers of hard shelled flesh. _ Differences. _ How to even tell all of them apart. Tobio doesn’t know where each difference ends and another begins.

_ ‘I’m surprised the other guys could put up with such self-centered setting like that. I wouldn’t. Oh, wait…’ _

The pavement pounds beneath his feet, the crunch of stray leaves crinkling his thoughts with each stride. His breathing grows ragged as he picks up his pace.

_ ‘I think King is the perfect nickname for you, Your Majesty.’ _

_ ‘It pisses me off that you’re practically telling me, “Just shut up and hit the toss, peasant.”’ _

_ ‘Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed. Is it that time of the month for the tyrant king?’ _

_ ‘Now there’s the King of the Court I used to know and love… it’s been a while since you preached from your high horse.’ _

_ ‘My bad. Didn’t realize the tyrant king’s reign lasted all month.’ _

The wind picks up as he turns another corner. Gray clouds gather overhead, threatening rain. Despite it all, Tobio keeps running, flying at a full on sprint now, partially in the hopes that if he doesn’t stop, he’ll eventually run all thoughts of Tsukishima to the ground.

_ Two kilometers… Two and a half… _

What is it about him that set Tsukishima off in the first place anyway? Tobio hadn’t known him before. He couldn’t have had any idea that his new teammate would push his buttons before he even learned his name. Yet somehow Tsukishima knew. Because Tsukishima always knows: about his past, how to piss him off, what his weak points are. He knew some of Tobio’s deepest flaws before ever confronting him in person, understood something deep within him underneath that egocentric tossing that Tobio himself had been too afraid to uncover. The worst part of it all is that he wasn’t wrong.

_ Isn’t _wrong.

“Tch.”

Tobio grits his teeth and slows to a light jog. He’s already far past the residential block he usually circles before heading home. Physically, he feels great — his legs are screaming in the good kind of pain and his body feels energized from all the cardio, buzzing with adrenaline and feeling alive. But no matter how much he tries to outrun that haunting, critical gaze in Tsukishima’s eyes, the piercing glare and jeering taunts is all Tobio can see in his mind.

_ Bzzt. _

Tobio jolts forward as something vibrates against his leg. His environment snaps back into sharp focus, sending Tsukishima’s snide voice into faded, distant echoes inside his head. Glancing down, he sees the faint glow of his phone in his pocket and slows to a walk so he can pull it out.

** _Message from Hinata Shouyou:_ **   
_ Last chance kageyama!! We’re all going to the temple right now, are you sure you don’t want to come? _

Tobio doesn’t have to think twice. Drawing his thumb out from under his long sleeve, he types out a single word:

_ Nah. _

Pocketing his phone, he picks up his pace once more and loops around the neighborhood so he can head back home.

The rest of the day passes like any other weekend. He eats lunch and showers after the run, then attempts to get some homework out of the way (he can’t lose to Hinata after all) before treating himself to a few volleyball videos he hasn’t gotten to last week yet.

It happens some time a few hours after dinner. While in the middle of the game between Germany and Japan, drowsiness — overwhelming drowsiness — takes over Tobio’s mind. Although his exercise regimen had been lighter than usual today, he finds he can barely keep his eyes open despite the early hour. With a huge yawn, he pauses the video, shuts his laptop closed, and goes to brush his teeth.

Once he’s finished, he crawls under the blankets and turns off his bedside lamp. The descent into unconsciousness happens fast. The moment he shuts his eyes, a weight pulls heavy on his mind, dragging him downwards into the shadowy depths. There in the soft, moonlit darkness, he allows sleep to consume him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

A light, electric sounding tune plays somewhere overhead. The melody seems to reach for Tobio’s consciousness from afar, yet feels so near and close at the same time, gently prodding him into waking.

“Ugh…”

Tobio digs the heel of his palm into his forehead. Although he’d ended up having a deep, dreamless slumber, his mind feels like it’s been split in two. It’s to the point where the throbbing feels like nails being drilled into his skull. He can’t remember ever feeling this groggy in his life.

The music continues to play. As his surroundings come into focus, Tobio finally registers it as a series of guitar strums paired with a harsh, raspy voice… _ voices _. For a moment he simply lies there, disoriented. He can’t fathom why a song like this would suddenly start playing in his room. He doesn’t have a radio or a boom box. Maybe his phone?

Reaching out a hand, he clamps down on his nightstand —

Only for his arm to slip right through, pulling his entire body down onto the floor with it.

_ Ow — what—? _

Tobio snaps open his eyes. Everything is blurry — he can’t see for shit.

_ What the _ hell _ ?! _

He blinks several times hoping to clear his vision, but nothing gives. Feeling around the room for the edge of the bed, he hauls himself back into it and squints in the direction of his nightstand.

_ Huh? _

He can’t be seeing this right. Leaning closer, a white object that looks nothing like the mahogany nightstand he owns comes into focus.

Is he still asleep? He can’t be, can he? But no, the nightstand he’s seeing right before his eyes is indeed smaller and shorter than his real one. As if that isn’t strange enough, perched on top of its surface is a book, a tiny desk lamp, a pair of folded up glasses, and a phone he’s note sure he recognizes.

_ What the hell is going on? _

The music continues to play on from the phone. With a tentative finger, he presses the red button to shut the alarm off and checks the time.

6:48 AM.

He squints at the numbers. It feels earlier than usual, but he doesn’t think he’d set his alarm incorrectly. If yesterday was Sunday, then today is Monday, which means he has to go to school, and…

Tobio’s gaze falls upon the glasses. Upon closer inspection, they look oddly familiar, but even if he’s seen them before, he has no idea why he would wake up next to them in a strange, unfamiliar room with blurry vision to boot. Something’s not right…

The longer he stares, the more his instincts tell him to put them on. Maybe the answers will become clearer if he does. Figuring he has nothing to lose if he just goes for it, he picks up the glasses, unfolds them, and slides them carefully up his nose.

The world comes into sharp focus and Tobio’s breathing stops as he looks down. The first thing he registers is that his blankets and sheets are all the wrong color. Furthermore, his bed is oriented in a different corner of a room he doesn’t even recognize. Glancing around, he sees a jacket he definitely doesn’t own, a ton of books he’s never read, no sign of a volleyball or weights nearby, dinosaur figurines lining the shelves above a desk, and—

His eyes widen. There, suspended on a hanger by the shelves is none other than a Karasuno jersey with the number 6 upon its front.

_ But — but that’s— _

Heart pounding in his ears, Tobio scrambles out of bed and searches for a mirror. He spots a long, thin one leaning against the wall facing the door and makes a beeline for it. Hands gripping the frames, he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and looks into it.

“What the f—”


	2. back to the top of the slide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To: 月島  
_please tell me this is kageyama on the other side of this_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's tsukki's turn to handle the events :P

☾

**.**

**.**

**.**

_ When studying a setter, take a look at how all the players play from behind the court! _

His brother had told him that once, back when they used to go to volleyball games together, when Kei was barely taller than the stadium rails and everything Akiteru did still shone with a rose-tinted sheen in his eyes. Funny how even when you are actively trying not to think about someone, you still can’t unlearn everything they’ve taught you. In spite of it all, Kei is not one to ignore sound advice.

So when the opportunity to see the infamous Kitagawa Daiichi setter play at the prefectural qualifier arises, Kei watches the game from the back of the court.

Based on everything Akiteru has ever told him about setters and everything Kei has learned about them for himself, there’s no doubt that Kageyama Tobio is an exceptional player.

His judgements are quick and sharp, his tosses creepily precise. It’s clear he can read the court like the back of his hand. There just seems to be one problem.

_ Reckless, _ he hears someone from behind him say. When Kei turns to glance at the speaker, he finds a tall high school boy shaking his head.

_ Reckless, _Kei ponders as he turns back around. Focusing his gaze on the head of black hair in the middle of the court, Kei witnesses the collapse of a King.

For days to come, he won’t know why Kitagawa’s setter will come to leave such a distinct impression on him. Mostly, it’s maddening to watch such prodigious skill spiral into such egocentric and tyrant-like behavior. Kei’s learned his lesson the hard way once already: gone unchecked, passion (and by proxy volleyball) makes fools of them all.

With each round that passes, he watches the setter berate each and every one of his teammates. With each point they lose, Kei’s jaw hardens. It’s a brutal, tragic demise. When Kageyama finally gets called to the bench, Kei purses his lips and walks away.

_ Reckless. _

The word echoes in his mind, an incessant ripple blending together with the disappointed mutterings of the crowd.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Kei wakes in the morning to his usual alarm. A chorus of mellow, raspy voices overlayed with the strumming of electric guitars drifts over to him from his bedside. Faint light streams in through the small slits of his window blinds: a cloudy day. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kei turns over and snuggles deeper into his blankets, allowing the Beatles to continue to lull his half-conscious brain.

_ He's as blind as he can be _  
_ Just sees what he wants to see _ _  
_Nowhere man, can you see me at all…

So his mind had decided to dredge up that memory of Kageyama in his sleep last night (again). This is fine (not). Understandable though, he supposes, considering how royally said King pissed him off on Friday. He could maybe live with it if having dreams like these didn’t throw his overall mood in for a loop upon waking up.

Scowling, he reaches out for his phone and silences his alarm.

It’s a chilly morning in his room. Cloudy too, judging by how dim the sunlight looks on the other side of his blinds. A perfect day to stay inside and read, then perhaps get some homework done and out of the way. Closing his eyes, Kei makes an effort to clear his head and force himself out of bed.

By the time he finishes brushing his teeth and getting dressed, the dream and all the feelings tied along with it seem to have mostly dissipated. Eager to continue coasting on this neutralized ground, he picks up a sci-fi novel he had started a few days ago and dives into it.

Picking up from where he left off last, he finds himself at a part where the protagonist wakes up after switching consciousness with a robot. As the man adjusts to his new mind, he starts to navigate an abstract thought space of the robot’s memories and dreams. It’s intriguing and mentally stimulating in all the right ways and Kei loses himself in it, wrapped up by the crafty style of the author’s prose.

He’s enjoying the novel, he really is. The story is interesting and captures his attention. Despite this, he still ends up flitting back and forth between sudden twinges of emotion that aren’t related to the content he’s currently consuming. Whenever he tries to shake it off and clear his head again, the direction always leads him to the same place.

_ Reckless King. _

Kei frowns. He supposes the conversation with Yamaguchi when they walked home after practice on Friday hadn’t helped either.

“They’re right you know,” he had begun, tentatively. “The first years.”

Not wanting to discuss the matter, Kei had stayed silent.

_ “I mean, we’re second years now,” Yamaguchi tries again. “And Ennoshita-san seems to think you’d make a great captain next year. But you’ve never really gotten along with Kageyama, so I don’t know, maybe it’d… you know… set a good example if you—” _

_ “No thanks,” Kei cuts in as he quickens his pace — anything to shorten this conversation as much as possible. _

_ Determined to pursue the matter, much to Kei’s dismay, Yamaguchi power walks ahead to catch up. _

_ “I know this affects you more than you’re letting off, Tsukki.” — and damn, if this isn’t why Kei doesn’t enjoy having close friends — “And, well… it kind of affects the team too? It’s been two years of this. Don’t you think it’d be ridiculous if you guys kept going on that way well into your third year? It would be nice if you could learn how to get along…” _

_ Kei purses his lips. He never asked for captaincy. Why wouldn’t they give it to someone who’s actually passionate about that sort of thing, like Hinata? Or someone more practical, like Yamaguchi himself?_

Well… _ he sighs. Even as he thinks it, he knows why. _

_ Still, there shouldn’t be a reason why his relationship with Kageyama would be relevant at all to the fact that they’re becoming upperclassmen, nor any of their potentials for captaincy. Any decent player, first year or third year, should be able to figure out how to play just fine regardless of any relationship nuances, among themselves or their role models. _

_ “I don’t see why that’s necessary,” Kei says, and he leaves it at that. _

_ Thankfully, his house is just a few meters away. When they approach, Kei heads towards it without saying goodbye. _

_ “Just think about it,” Yamaguchi calls out after him. “That’s all I’m saying.” _

_ Kei pauses in front of the Tsukishima nameplate and gives a one-shouldered shrug to show that he’s heard. Without another glance back, he walks through the front walls and up the steps to his door. _

Sometime before lunch, his mother knocks on his door and pokes her head in.

“Tadashi is here,” she announces.

“Okay,” Kei says without looking up from the documentary he’s watching. He hadn’t made any plans with Yamaguchi or anything, but every once in a while, Yamaguchi invites himself over to do homework together. And anyway, it would be nice to have company when he tackles his English worksheets.

When he makes no show of stopping the video, she adds, “He’s asking if you can come downstairs.”

“Why can’t he come upstairs?” he asks, trying to stay focused on the narrator’s words._ (…currently sitting in the British Museum of Natural History, the tooth itself is…) _

“He’s just stopping by,” his mother continues. “Don’t keep your friends waiting too long, Kei.”

Kei lets out a sigh and presses pause as she turns and leaves his room. What could Yamaguchi possibly want with him on such a short visit?

_ Wait a minute… _ ‘friends’ _ ?! _

Fearing the worst, Kei hurries down the stairs and heads towards the front door.

Sure enough, when he arrives at his genkan, he finds Yamaguchi Tadashi (the traitor) framed in the doorway, standing next to none other than Hinata Shouyou.

Kei narrows his eyes. This can’t be good.

As he looks down between his two ‘friends,’ something — whether relief or disappointment, he can’t tell — deflates in him. Although his mother had said ‘friends,’ plural, Kageyama is not with them. Not that he expected him to be. In fact, it’s much better that he’s not. He doesn’t want to see his scowling face this weekend anyway.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demands, directing his burning glare at Hinata specifically. Yamaguchi has the good sense to look abashed. Hinata, of course, is undeterred.

“We were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the temple,” his shorter classmate chirps. “You know, to wish for luck and stuff for the Interhigh!”

Kei rolls his eyes.

“You lost me at ‘us,’” he informs them. Plastering on his best falsely cheerful smile, he bows his head and adds, “Thank you for stopping by,” before promptly closing the door in their faces.

Yamaguchi, however, sticks his hand out and grips the edge of it.

“Tsukki, wait!” he cries out. “We just wanted to make it a tradition for our year to go before every big tournament, so it would be pointless if you don’t come. We invited Yachi, a-and Kageyama too—”

“Where are they, then?” Kei asks, still pushing against Yamaguchi’s weight. As he’d expected, Hinata’s face turns pink upon hearing the question.

“Yaachan is meeting us there,” Hinata explains. “Your house is on the way. I already invited Kageyama, but I’m about to text him again to confirm. He — he hasn’t said no yet!”

“Just as I thought,” Kei says, loosening his hold over the door, causing Yamaguchi to slip from the sudden shift in weight and nearly topple over. “If he hasn’t responded to your first text, then I highly doubt His Majesty plans to grace us lowly peasants with his presence so, if you’ll excuse me, I think that exempts me from going along as well. Good day.”

And with that, he slams the door shut before Yamaguchi can say another word.

“You said there’d be a better chance of convincing him if we stopped by in person rather than text!” he hears Hinata hiss to Yamaguchi on the other side.

“There was!” Yamaguchi insists. With a quieter mumble over the sound of footsteps heading away, he adds, “I just never said it would actually work.”

Kei listens until the footsteps fade away before turning around and heading back into the living room. The pleasant smell of curry wafts over from the kitchen, where his mother is hard at work making lunch.

“What did Tadashi want?” she asks as Kei passes by. He pauses in the hallway, watching her bring a soup spoon to her lips to taste her concoction.

“Nothing,” Kei shrugs. “Just asked if I wanted to go out. Obviously, I said no.”

“Ah, I see.” She turns and beams at him. “Your other friend seems very sweet!”

“Right. Just like sugar,” Kei mutters, feeling no desire to expend energy trying to convince his mother otherwise. _ Hinata? Sweet? Please. _

“Well, lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes!” she tells him, returning to her task of stirring the pot. “Come back down while the food’s still hot, okay?”

“Yes, mom,” he says before heading back upstairs.

After eating his fill of curry, Kei returns to his bedroom to finish the documentary he’d been watching before Yamaguchi and Hinata had interrupted. The video takes up a good chunk of the afternoon and offers a perfect distraction for his mind, a refreshing reprieve from his classmates’ disturbance.

The rest of his Sunday passes in a much more relaxed manner. Once the documentary is over, he puts on some music and moves on to finishing up his homework. Eventually, thoughts of his classmate, and of Kageyama, fade into the background where they belong.

It’s around nine when it happens. While reading the same sci-fi book from earlier in bed, a sudden wave of drowsiness hits Kei hard. Without warning, he finds his eyelids drooping and he feels a few pages slip through his fingers. His brain seems to have slowed out of nowhere. It’s as though the wheels of his brain have slammed straight into mud and the simple act of remembering whether he’s already brushed his teeth or not suddenly requires insurmountable levels of labor.

_ I have _, he thinks, as the vague memory of rinsing his mouth earlier tonight swims back to him through sludge.

It’s the last thing he remembers thinking before turning off his lamp, sliding beneath the covers, and sinking deep into a hopefully Kageyama-less sleep.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The first thing Kei registers when he wakes up is smell. There’s a distinct scent tickling his nose as he lays on his pillow, a strange mix of clean sweat and soap, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

It’s silent in the room, which means he must’ve woken up sometime before his alarm. His mind nudges him to check his phone for the time but his body still feels too heavy to obey. After three more tries of forcing his hand to respond, Kei settles instead for turning over in his bed and riding out his last spare minutes of sleep as much as he can before his alarm finally goes off.

He slips in and out of consciousness, expecting the Beatles to start playing any minute now.

Which is why when the sound hits, Kei is not prepared for it at all.

A loud piercing beep blasts out from somewhere to his left, shaking him from slumber. The ringing is incessant and headache-inducing, and it’s all Kei can do to fumble around for his phone to shut it up. Shooting a hand out, he slaps the nightstand multiple times at the source of the sound before landing on a hard, alloy object that’s definitely a phone, but _ definitely _ not his phone.

_ What the hell? _

Kei lifts his head from the pillow and opens his eyes. Before he can even look properly at the mysterious phone he’s touching, however, his brain gets thrown back a couple steps in shock at the sharpness in clarity of what he’s seeing. It’s like some kind of crazy miracle — even with his glasses on, his vision has never been this amazing.

It isn’t long before the sharpness starts to give him an even larger headache than the one from the alarm and Kei has to shut his eyes again as everything in his environment seems to be rearranging itself around him.

_ Okay… okay. _ He rubs at his temple as the piercing beeps continue. _ What the hell is going on? Did his phone reset overnight? Is that why his alarms have all reverted back to factory settings? But that doesn’t explain why he doesn’t recognize the phone in his hands. And why does he suddenly have eyes sharper than as hawk’s? _

Tentatively, he cracks one eye open and looks down at the phone.

His first order of business is to silence it, which he finds in the form of a sliding red button on the screen. Once he shuts it up, his groggy mind finally registers that it’s an android phone. Baffled by this strange predicament, Kei finally pushes himself up to a seated position and takes a good look around the room.

His blankets are dark blue and the mahogany nightstand next to him looks new and barely used. The space itself isn’t messy but it isn’t quite organized to his tastes either. There are books stacked in a neat pile at the foot of the bed instead of on a shelf (which makes _ entirely _ no sense) and off to the corner sits two 5 kg weights and a volleyball. The room set-up and style is bare-boned and athletic, and it’s starting to remind him of… _ but no… it can’t be… _

Picking the phone up again, he swipes open the front camera at once and stares.

And stares.

And stares…

“No fucking way.”

Kei is still dreaming — he has to be. There, staring back at him from the phone is none other than _ that _ mop of floppy black hair and blue eyes.

He lowers the phone, then raises it back up to look into it again. Still Kageyama. He drops the phone. Picks it up. Turns his head. Makes a face.

Still Kageyama.

_ What the hell is going on? _

As a final and desperate grasp for sanity, he throws the covers off and leaps out of bed. There’s no mirror in his room (_ how? And why? _) so Kei wrenches open the door and stumbles out into the hallway.

The bathroom is just adjacent to Kageyama’s bedroom. After making sure the coast is clear, he dives into it and shuts the door.

The mirror above the sink reflects the same information as the phone. Standing there with his arms on the counter, Kei truly is staring into his own reflection — only for Kageyama to stare right back at him with an expression just as shocked and alarmed as Kei feels.

The thoughts _ What the fuck happened? _ and _ Is this permanent? _ fire off in his head all at once. This — this can’t be happening… That would be crazy and he’s not crazy. He’s not.

_ Okay… okay, don’t panic, _ he commands himself as his heart rate (or Kageyama’s heart rate??) picks up and threatens to go into overdrive. _ Assess the situation. _

Kei opens his hands and inspects them closely. Perfectly filed nails, fingers a little sturdier than his own, but slender all the same. He brings them up and feels his face with his eyes on Kageyama’s reflection. Stronger jaw bones, slightly fuller nose, bigger mouth — and just, god. God, everything is so _ wrong _.

But wait. If he’s Kageyama, then where is the real Kageyama?

The sudden brainwave seems to jumpstart him back into his own mind and without another glance, he darts back down the hallway and into Kageyama’s room, making a beeline straight for his phone. It takes him a few seconds to figure out the fingerprint scanner on the Samsung Galaxy but once he does, he opens Kageyama’s messaging app and types his own number into the contact line.

The header changes to the two kanji of his family name when he taps the message box.

To: 月島  
_ please tell me this is kageyama on the other side of this _

Kei hits send and waits with bated breath.

It’s at that unfortunate moment he realizes with cold dread that he really, really needs to pee.

His face sours._ God damn it all. _ Best to get it over with sooner than later.

Gritting his teeth, he rushes back to the bathroom and forces his mind to completely dissociate as he goes through the motions, all the while praying profusely to whatever god placed him in this situation to please have some fucking mercy.

When Kei returns after also brushing his teeth and splashing his face (he’s checked — still Kageyama), he picks up the phone, hoping to see a flurry of equally panicked texts from Kageyama himself as he taps the screen and watches it light up.

No new messages.

A sinking feeling settles at the pit of his stomach. He had sent the text about ten minutes ago. If nobody responds…

He swallows. No, that’s not an option. Otherwise, he’ll have to think of another solution. In any case, today is definitely Monday, which means they definitely have school today. He freezes. If his own body doesn’t show up to class, his grades and perfect record will be done for.

Opening the message app to his own name, he copies and pastes his original message and hits send again.

A minute later, the phone buzzes in his hand. Frantic, Kei opens it at once.

(6:59 AM) From: 月島  
_ Tsukishima? Is that you? _

Kei rolls his eyes as he types back a response.

(7:02 AM)  
_ Yes Your Royal Highness _

_ Who else would it be? _

_ How the fuck should I know I woke up in your body anything could go wrong _

_ A very good morning to you too, King _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

(7:05 AM)  
_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ I didn’t think to text myself _

_ Of course you didn’t. _

_ Well if you’re such a genius then what the fuck do you think is happening? _

_ What do we do now? _

(7:13 AM)  
_ ????? _

_ WILL YOU RELAX A GENIUS NEEDS TO THINK _

_ Ugh I can’t figure it out right now we both need to get to school stat _

_ You especially _

_ Me? Why not you? _

_ Because my grades are perched at more precarious heights _

_ ……… _

_ It means they have farther to fall you idiot so do hurry, won’t you, King _

_ Have you gotten dressed yet? _

_ Also tuck my shirt in _

_ I’m not stupid I always tuck my shirt in _

_ And no I don’t know where you keep your uniform _

_ Felt weird to go through your stuff _

_ Are you _

_ This is the ONE time I need you to not be polite _

_ JUST PUT THE CLOTHES ON _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ Second drawer down from the top. Socks are in the bottom left. _

_ Completed homework is in my backpack please don’t fuck that up _

_ Fine _

_ How do I get to school from your house _

_ You have my phone and quite possibly my physical brain _

_ For the love of god PLEASE USE THEM _

_ Please tell me you know my classroom number _

_ 2-5? _

_ Yes. _

_ Meet at the vending machines around the courtyard at lunch. _

_ Can you bring the pork buns my okaasan set aside for me _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ Please _

_ Don’t grovel King, it’s unbecoming of you _

_ Not to mention creepy _

_ And yes. I will. _

* * *

After stumbling through an awkward and stilted conversation with Kageyama’s mother, Kei heads to school, feeling strange and stupid in such a different skin.

Suffice it to say, Kageyama’s classes are boring as hell. They have a pop quiz in the morning, which Kei aces (possibly something he can use as a bargaining chip with the King sometime). Hinata stares over at him from a few desks away, looking both shocked and skeptical that he’d finished so quickly. Kei shoots him a glare then stares down at his pencil, thinking.

The level of difficulty of that quiz makes him feel antsy thinking about Kageyama taking his place in his class. He’ll probably have to borrow Yamaguchi’s notes, although the idea of having to ask Yamaguchi makes his stomach churn unpleasantly. Not only would it raise suspicion, but Kei can only imagine the confused and surprised expression Yamaguchi’s face would take at the sheer fact that Kei is asking for help. The thought of it makes his blood curdle.

Yachi it is, then.

Kei purses his lips. If he’s lucky, there won’t be any tests or quizzes before they figure out how to reverse… whatever the hell this is. Switching bodies or consciousnesses has only ever been a thing of fiction. Why and how the hell is it happening to them?

A sinking feeling threatens to overtake him at the possibility that they won’t have a way to do so but he pushes it to the back. They don't have enough information to make that leap yet.

The school day drags on worse than ever. During Kageyama’s English period, Kei notices a bunch of mistakes on Kageyama’s vocabulary worksheets and can’t help correcting them before turning them in at the beginning of class. In math, he zones out once he realizes they’re being taught the same material he learned in middle school and decides to read a book underneath his desk.

At long last, the bell finally rings for lunch. Packing up his Royal Highness's bag, Kei books it for the same vending machines he often sees Kageyama frequenting.

When he arrives, he finds the vision of himself — Kageyama — already there, fishing a carton of milk out from the dispenser. A rush of relief floods through him upon the sight. Although they had texted in the morning about the swap, it’s another thing to see his body safe and intact in person. As long as no real accidents happen, he can figure out how to get back into his own skin. With a deep breath, he walks over and braces himself for the worst.

“I’m deducting 100 yen from your wallet for every carton you buy with my money,” Kei says as he comes to a stop behind him. He still can’t get used to his voice coming out in that deep and smooth timbre that usually makes its home shouting obscenities on the court. “Also I should warn you that my stomach doesn’t usually sit too well with the amount of milk you normally drink.”

Kageyama turns to him with a straw in his mouth, the usual glower plastered over his face. With the King’s trademark scowl on Kei’s own features, the effect — if he does say so himself — is more menacing than ever. The whole threatening look is compounded by the fact that he’s now a few centimeters taller.

But then Kageyama blinks and clumsily pushes the glasses back up his nose, and the effect is ruined. Upon hearing Kei’s last words, he releases the straw from his mouth and frowns.

“Oh. Sorry.”

He then proceeds to give him a shifty-eyed glance that tells Kei he’s already had way too much milk for his own body today.

“That’s—” Kei gives an exasperated sigh and snatches the milk from Kageyama’s hands. “I’ll drink it.”

Kageyama stares at him with a steadily deepening grimace as Kei lifts the straw to his mouth and takes a long sip. Kei can’t blame him; he’s experiencing the same exact feeling. It’s surreal seeing your own body outside of yourself functioning completely separately from you. Even as Kei glares back, an unsettling feeling creeps down his stomach as he takes in his own self bearing Kageyama’s sour expression.

Kageyama opens his mouth then closes it. Kei glares back with a raised brow, sipping his milk. With a deep exhale, Kageyama tries again.

“So do you — Did you… figure it out? How — how to fix this?”

“Of course not,” Kei snaps. “Do you think we’d still be here like this if I had?”

“How should I know?” Kageyama says. “You said you were thinking about it.”

“Well I’m telling you now I still don’t know what’s going on,” Kei frowns. “I thought I might get a brain wave if we saw each other in person.” He glares at Kageyama for a moment. “No such luck.”

Kageyama stares back, looking genuinely concerned.

“What do we do then?” he asks.

“I don’t know!” Kei says, throwing his hands up. “It’s not like I can just look up a manual for what to do when you mysteriously wake up and find yourself in your teammate’s body.”

“Well…” Kageyama fumbles, casting about for a response. “I can’t stay in your body forever!”

“Like I’m any happier being in yours!” Kei roars back. He doesn’t mean to come off so loud but Kageyama’s voice by default has more volume than he’s used to, and without his normal height advantage, the usual pressure to come out of any argument ahead has increased. “Your hair is so annoying!”

He pushes the fringe hanging over his forehead back and it flops back down again. “It never — goes — away!”

“Well your body is weird and skinny!” Kageyama yells back, pushing the glasses up his nose again. “And your vision is shit!”

“You don’t have to tell _ me _ that,” Kei rolls his eyes. “I’m so terribly sorry my peasant form is too unsatisfactory for your Kingliness, _ Your Majesty _.”

“You—”

“Oh, hey guys!” a bright voice pipes up from behind. Alarmed, the two of them whip around to see Hinata Shouyou walking towards them from across the yard with a small frown. “I thought I heard your voices — they’re only loud enough to reach the other side of campus.”

Kei scowls down at him.

“You — get lost.”

Hinata doesn’t even blink at the callous tone behind his words. Tilting his head, he asks, “What’re you guys even fighting about? It’s not practice yet.”

Kageyama clamps his mouth shut, the familiar angry-but-constipated expression coloring his face at once. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding and Kei would laugh if it weren’t for the fact that he’s distorting Kei’s own features, _ and _ in the presence of a third party. He gets it; Hinata can have that effect sometimes. It’s just jarring to see it on his own face.

Unfortunately, Hinata seems to think so too, because upon seeing Kageyama’s reaction, he blanches and makes to back away.

“You don’t look too well, Tsukishima,” he grimaces. “Are you okay?”

Kei sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose where a vein throbs just behind his temple.

“He’s fine!” he snaps when Hinata continues to look worried. “Now move along, we don’t have the time nor the capacity to entertain you right now.”

Instead of having the intended effect, however, Hinata just raises his eyebrows and gives Kei a puzzled look.

“Why are you talking like that?” Hinata asks. “It’s weird.” Lowering his voice, he adds, “Guess someone woke up on the wrong side of bed…”

“That’s _ my _ line,” Kei says automatically.

“Huh?” Hinata frowns. “When do you ever say that?”

“He means — he’s not—” Kageyama begins to say before Kei cuts him off with a look.

“You guys are being so weird,” Hinata comments. When the two of them glare down at him, he shrugs and adds, “Hey, I was just passing by to say hi. I saw you both talking and thought — oh, cool, look! They’re talking! I should’ve known it was just gonna be the same old crap.”

Kei groans and Hinata’s scowl deepens.

“Forget it — we’re not fighting,” Kei amends. “The Ki — I mean… _ I _… needed help on my… history homework.”

Kageyama throws him an alarmed look and opens his mouth to retort.

“We have to make sure we can go to Tokyo again right?” Kei rushes to say before either of them can cut in. “So we can’t afford to slack off.”

“Really?” Hinata asks, looking impressed. “So you actually came and asked _ Tsukishima _?”

The furrow in Kageyama’s brows deepen as Hinata looks excitedly between them.

“Yes. Don’t fall behind,” Kei warns.

“I won’t!” Hinata says resolutely. Turning to Kageyama, he asks, “Can I join the tutoring sessions?”

Kei has to suppress a laugh as Kageyama fumbles over his speech.

“I never agreed to this,” he says at last, pushing the glasses up his nose again. Kei smirks. It’s the most perfect response he could’ve said in Kei’s body.

“Well if you’re going to help Kageyama, then I don’t see why I can’t join too!”

_ I don’t have the energy to put up with more than one idiot at a time, _ Kei wishes he could say. Kageyama, however, just frowns and says, “No.”

It’s an acceptable answer he supposes.

“Whaaaa? That’s not fair,” Hinata pouts. “What kind of favoritism…”

“It’s not favoritism!” Kei blurts without thinking. Startled, both Hinata and Kageyama look to him, confusion flitting over their faces.

“Uh,” Kei shifts uncomfortably, casting about for something to excuse his outburst. He’s not entirely sure what triggered it, but something about Hinata’s insinuation sent his heart rate skyrocketing to his throat. “It’s just — I’ve realized I learn much better when it’s one-on-one.”

“Oooooh, private lessons,” Hinata nods to himself with a grin. “That’s good! I’m proud of both of you.”

“Both?” Kei raises an eyebrow. _ Why is he proud of _ me _ ? _

“Yeah!” he glances between both of them, that discomfiting smile growing more unnecessarily sly. “It’s about time you two actually cooperated on something!”

“We’re not,” Kageyama mutters, glaring directly at Kei.

“Okay, I know, I know,” Hinata says, holding both hands up. “Neither of you really _ want _ to be in this situation.” He sighs. “Well, at least it’s a start.”

Straightening up, Hinata points a finger at Kei and declares, “Don’t worry — I’ll study with Yachi and Yamaguchi. I won’t lose to you!”

Kei has to suppress his trademark smirk. “You will.”

Hinata lets out a loud _ hmph _ and says, “We’ll see about that!”

Fortunately, at that exact time, one of his non-volleyball friends calls out his name from across the courtyard. When he turns to face a whole group of them, one of the guys lifts a lunch bag up and beckons him over.

“Coming!” he yells back. Whipping back around to Kei, he points at him and shouts, “Just you wait!” before taking off and running towards his friends.

“God finally,” Kei exhales. “I thought he’d never leave.”

Kageyama continues to glare at Hinata’s retreating figure, a grimace on his face. Pushing his glasses up, he turns back to Kei.

“What the fuck was that?” he demands.

“Come again?” Kei asks.

“You _ lied _ about me needing help.”

“Did I though?”

Kei raises an eyebrow. Kageyama splutters, his face darkening. Gritting his teeth, he clenches his fists then looks down at the floor.

“Fine! Maybe I do need help! But after how you were last time, I’d never in a million years come to you about it first!”

“Oh my,” Kei says in tones of mock politeness. “Well, let’s hope you don’t take that long to finish your education, King.”

“You—”

On instinct, he grabs Kei’s collar, lifting him up onto his toes. Despite being shorter now, Kei remains calm, lips curling into a cool smirk. The whole set up, paired with the irony of being in each others’ bodies, is just so reminiscent of their first meeting, Kei actually has to stop himself from breaking out into a full-fledged laugh.

With a quiet _ tch _, Kageyama releases him and turns around, breathing hard.

“I don’t need your help,” he pants. “Yachi tutors us just fine.”

“Well she can’t tutor you when you look like me,” Kei points out. _ And I never said I didn’t want you guys to do well, _he thinks.

“And now Hinata has the wrong idea.”

This time, it’s Kei’s turn to scoff. “Do you think I care about that? If I hadn’t talked us out of that conversation, you would’ve told Hinata about our predicament — _ Hinata _. Until we understand more of what’s happening, it’s far better to let him leave with the wrong idea than for the entire volleyball team and possibly unknown members of this school to gain far too much information and insight into this situation and, not to mention, our private lives.”

“It’s not—” Kageyama turns back around, fumbling for words. “I mean — I don’t want that either, it’s just—”

With a huff, he looks back down at the ground and mutters, “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then use your words,” Kei says. “What are you trying to say?”

Kageyama scowls. “Never mind.”

Kei lets out an impatient sigh. So far, they still have no idea what caused this or how long it’ll go on for. What a nightmare. “Okay. Well. Do you have my homework assignments from the first four classes?”

“Yeah, it’s just a few worksheets from—”

“Hand it over,” Kei says, holding out a hand.

Kageyama gives him a puzzled look. “Why do you need it now?”

“If I have to sit through another class full of subject material I learned two years ago — as if the geometry proofs I suffered through today weren’t enough — I’m going to go and find the nearest cliff so I can walk off of it,” Kei says. “Give me the homework.”

Kageyama gives a grunt of acknowledgment before opening up his book bag and thumbing through its contents. Once he’s put together the proper stack of papers, he pulls it out and hands it to Kei.

“Thank you,” he says curtly, taking the pile and stuffing it into Kageyama’s bag. “Also, your pork buns.”

Kei swaps the wrapped pork buns with the homework and hands it to Kageyama, who takes it gratefully.

“Your mom made you lunch too,” Kageyama tells him, pulling out a bento box from his bag. Once he places it in Kei’s outstretched hand, he sets the school bag down and sits down with his back against the wall. “Eat? We have about five more minutes.”

Kei purses his lips. He usually eats in a classroom with Yamaguchi and it’s weird to think about eating lunch with the King for a change in such strange circumstances. What a strange, bizarre day.

Squeezing his now empty milk carton into his fists, Kei tosses it in a nearby trash can and joins Kageyama on the ground.

Kageyama takes big bites — bigger than Kei’s own mouth is normally capable of. It really isn’t becoming of him. He has to put his foot down.

“Oi, don’t gorge my stomach like that,” he snaps. “Can’t you eat like a normal person?”

“‘M hunffgry,” Kageyama says with his mouth full.

Kei wrinkles his nose. “You make me look terrible.”

Kageyama shrugs and downs some water to chase down the first pork bun he’s consumed. With a sigh, Kei opens his bento box and starts picking at it with his chopsticks.

The bell signaling the end of lunch rings before they can finish their food. It’s just as well. After the distressing events of the day, Kei has barely had an appetite anyway. He packs up his bento box and shoves it back in his own bag for Kageyama to take home. Kageyama, on the other hand, stuffs the last pork curry bun in his mouth at top speed.

Kei sighs again. Although it had been admittedly decent to spend his lunch break with Kageyama for a change, he just wants this whole ordeal to be over. He wants his body back. And as is often the case when he’s feeling the desire to escape, he wants to drown out the rest of the world with music.

“Did you bring my headphones by the way?” he asks.

“No,” Kageyama manages to say around the food in his mouth. “You didn’t mention it, so I didn’t think to.”

Kei groans. “Ugh. I need to come over after practice then.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen and he claps a hand over his mouth, having just tried to swallow before Kei spoke his last words. Bending over, he coughs and splutters. Kei crinkles his nose, horrified at the fact that his body has been reduced to looking like this.

“What’s with you?” Kei asks, pushing his water bottle into Kageyama’s hands and adds, “If you could just eat like a civilized human being, maybe this wouldn’t happen.”

“P-practice…” Kageyama croaks after taking a long gulp of water.

“What about it?”

Kei waits as Kageyama wipes his mouth with the back of his hand — Kei’s hand.

“How are we going to… to—”

Kei gapes at him, feeling the dread sink in. Lifting his hands — Kageyama’s hands — he gazes at his slender fingers unseeingly, understanding settling in.

In a low whisper, he asks, “How am I going to set like you?”

Frozen in place, the two of them stare at each other as students file back to class around them, both at a complete loss in the wake of this fresh, new, tangled monstrosity of a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i continue to write more of this fic, updates may come slower because i do want everything to be as consistent in terms of continuity as possible! however, i do plan to try and drop a chapter for tsukikage day on 11/9 so stay tuned :3c


	3. i stop and i turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s like Hinata said. We’re teammates. And right now, we’re stuck like this, so you need to rely on me whether you like it or not. I’m just pointing it out. So now the question is, can I rely on you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy (early) tsukikage day!! here's a much longer update finally. thank you guys for your patience!! the practice shenanigans starts here.. and some ground rules setting.
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

♚

**.**

**.**

**.**

The one good thing about practice Tobio has to look forward to is Tsukishima’s height.

The epiphany hits him in the middle of fifth period after he and Tsukishima go their separate ways after lunch. In the midst of gearing himself up during lecture for the horrifying prospect of playing volleyball in a body other than his own, Tobio receives a sudden wave of inspiration.

It’s as though a lightbulb has gone off in his head. Sitting up straight, he stares blankly ahead as the reality of this whole situation washes over him.

He’s taller.

_ He _ is _ taller _.

… He’s _ taller _.

As the idea echoes fresh in his mind, the dread from lunch quickly fades away and is replaced by a sudden wave of frenzied excitement. Pulling out one of Tsukishima’s notebooks, he flips to the back of the page and starts to jot down every difference in feeling he senses in Tsukishima’s body — longer arm reach, terrible vision, slimmer torso, the works — and how they might affect his play. For one, his fingers feel more delicate and slender and his nails are definitely a little longer, but he can work with that until he gets his hands on a filer. Legs: also long and thin; not quite as good for jumping. Feet: bigger, feels less coordinated. Palms: less sweaty…

“Tsukki.” He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to see Yamaguchi’s curious face.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, leaning in close.

Tobio eyes their teacher to make sure she’s not looking their way before turning back to mutter, “Notes.”

“Really?” comes Yamaguchi’s disbelieving voice. “You’re writing so… aggressively.”

“I am?” Tobio frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“Ah… Never mind,” Yamaguchi replies sheepishly.

Leaning forward over his desk, Tobio tries holding his pencil closer to his chest and starts writing more slowly.

By the end of the school day, he’s scribbled out five pages of strategizing notes and drawn a few ideas for possible plays. He’s also thought about how Tsukishima would fare in his own body. While Tsukishima isn’t bad at setting by any means, there are a few essential things in Tobio’s repertoire that as a middle blocker, he hasn’t needed to learn. For one, Tobio knows how long and grueling it was for himself to finally master the falling toss. Without the same amount of practice, there’s just no getting around it: Tsukishima won’t be able to pull it off tonight, or even this week. If Hinata starts to rib him for tosses, that might be a problem.

When the school bell finally rings, he and Yamaguchi leave the classroom to retrieve their belongings from their shoe lockers and head towards the gym. Despite the concerns he and Tsukishima had discussed at the end of lunch hour, now that Tobio has thought things through and is finally heading towards practice, he can’t help but feel energized. The chaos from earlier begins to melt away as they walk, replaced by a tingling of pleasure buzzing beneath his fingertips.

Although the team will mostly be expecting blocking specialties from him today, he’s still focused on the fact that he’s never gotten to play volleyball from beyond the 190cm peak before. His stomach squirms with excitement from the sheer thought of it. After all his analyses, he thinks he’s ready to try a jump serve at a higher point. With his power and Tsukishima’s body, he can manage an even wider range of blocks over the net. Maybe he can try to set to Hinata, if he can figure out how to do so without raising suspicion, although… that would also require a lower trajectory and less curved arc, and he still needs to configure that in person. Or maybe! He could get Nishinoya to set it to him, and he can try spiking it over—

“You’re looking… strangely happy,” Yamaguchi observes with a raised brow, jolting him out of his blissful reverie. “Are you feeling okay, Tsukki? You do know we’re heading to practice, right?”

_ Crap. _ Tobio drops his smile at once, doing his best to push all joyful feelings back down beneath the surface. _ What would Tsukishima say? _

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mutters stiffly.

With a fond smile, Yamaguchi chuckles. “Sorry, Tsukki. It’s just — it’s such a rare sight.”

Tobio purses his lips. He’s not sure what to say back, or if Tsukishima would’ve even responded anyway. Quite frankly, now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t really understand their relationship at all.

For one, how on earth have Tsukishima and Yamaguchi remained friends for so long? He had never really given it much thought before, even after the time Hinata had brought it up to him once, but now as he tries to navigate the mysterious waters that is Tsukishima’s personal life, Tobio wonders how it all works. He’s never had a loyal, nice friend like Yamaguchi, someone who is so genuine and eager to stay close. Yet somehow, despite all of Tsukishima’s prickliness, neither of them have never gotten sick of or fed up with each other.

It’s… interesting.

Presently, Yamaguchi doesn’t ask or press further for what’s on his mind. Instead, he falls into a comfortable tune, humming some soft and lighthearted melody. Tobio keeps quiet for the remainder of the walk.

Tsukishima is already in the club room when they arrive. Although he looks calm and bored on the outside, Tobio can tell when his own face is looking a little pale. He wants to communicate to him somehow that he’s confident about their abilities to play and pull this off without raising any suspicion, but he’s never been good with words. He’s also only seen Tsukishima set a few times in the past two years so even if he wanted to offer advice, he isn’t sure what to say. And even if Tsukishima ends up fumbling a bit, Tobio is pretty sure he’s not the kind of guy that would want to hear any encouragement from him anyway.

Once they get dressed, Tsukishima coughs and points him to a small, sleek black case in his volleyball bag. Reaching his hand in, Tobio pulls it out and opens the lid.

The sports glasses the other boy usually wears sit neatly inside of it. Tobio frowns as he picks them up. He’s never really appreciated how inconvenient it is to have shitty vision. Having to wear glasses all the time and switch them out for games is an extra detail he never had to think about before. After a full day of wearing glasses, he’s still only just getting used to them, but to have to wear them during practice… he’s starting to see how cumbersome this is going to be.

“Why don’t you wear contacts?” he mutters to Tsukishima under his breath.

“Just put them on,” he returns through gritted teeth.

With a sigh, Tobio takes off the normal pair and straps the sports ones on over his head. The glasses fit snugly and don’t threaten to slip off. It’s… actually quite nice.

“Ready, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks. Tobio blinks up at him, his eyes still adjusting to the slight difference between the lenses.

“Yeah,” he grunts. Huh. These glasses are already feeling much better.

“Let’s go, then,” Yamaguchi says, standing up from their bench and walking towards the exit. Tsukishima gets up from his seat as well and shoots him a look as if to say, _ let’s just get this over with _, before following suit. Remembering that he’s going into practice with Tsukishima’s height, Tobio grabs his water bottle and hurries out after them.

Practice, it turns out, is much harder than Tobio had anticipated. The first time he tries his usual jump serve, he doesn’t so much as fumble the move as completely butchers it. When he throws the ball up — attempting to toss it higher in anticipation for his longer reach — he swings, makes contact — but with the wrong part of his arm. The ball hits him right beneath the wrist and goes spiraling off kelter. Worser still, not only does he fail to get the ball over the net, but he sends it shooting straight into the back of Hinata’s head.

With a loud _ wham! _ the ball slams right beneath his teammate’s skull and knocks him off balance. Hinata yelps and stumbles forward. Tobio claps a hand to his mouth.

_ Fuck. _

“I didn’t—” he starts to say, but Tanaka and Nishinoya burst into loud laughter around him. He probably would have found it funny too if he weren’t the one stuck in this strange situation. If only Hinata knew who was _ really _the one to serve a ball to his head. Tobio glances over at Tsukishima and sees him staring back in utter shock, looking torn between abject horror at what Tobio’s done in his body and unadulterated delight at what Tobio has done to Hinata.

“Sorry,” he says weakly, earning a face palm from Tsukishima. Oh. Right. Tsukishima probably would have never apologized even if he did feel sorry. Oops.

“GAH,” Hinata roars, rubbing his head with both hands. “What the heck, Tsukishima?! Is this because I asked you to tutor me earlier? If so, I’m sorry!”

“You’re trying jump serves now, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks with interest over the laughter of all the others.

“Yes… to both,” Tobio says. _ I think. _

“That’s awesome!” Yamaguchi gushes, starry-eyed, while Hinata whines in the back. Tsukishima rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to setting a volleyball against the wall.

Unfortunately, this marks only the first of many more disasters to come. As it turns out, no matter how much he’s analyzed it in his head, the physical experience of playing volleyball with a longer and lankier body throws Tobio completely off balance. When Tanaka asks Tobio to help him with spiking practice, he goes eagerly, but when the time comes for him to block, he jumps much higher than he means to and receives Tanaka’s spike to the face. (Hinata laughs at his expense — deservedly — as Ennoshita asks if he’s feeling okay.) Later, on his way to retrieving his water bottle, he interrupts Nishinoya’s setting practice by giving him unsolicited advice on technique without thinking and gets wrapped up in a furious tousle he hadn’t meant to provoke. After that, he flops a few more jump serves, attempts spiking practice with all of Tsukishima’s arm length, and sends one of the balls soaring so far and wide over the court, it flies out of bounds and nearly hits Yachi, who yelps and ducks just in time.

“Oi! What’s gotten into you, Tsukishima?” Tanaka asks after checking to make sure their manager is doing okay and no longer panicking.

Tobio glances at the real Tsukishima, who gives him an unhelpful glare.

“Just — trying some stuff out,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, Yachi.”

“It’s okay!” she rushes to reassure, waving her hands. “I’m fine!”

“It’s _ not _ fine, you almost hurt our manager!” Tanaka yells.

“And since when have you ‘tried stuff out’ like _ that _?” Hinata demands.

“I—” Tobio racks his brain. Now would be the time for something witty to say, something only Tsukishima would be able to think of. But he comes up short.

With a visible sigh, Tsukishima jumps in to rescue Tobio.

“It’s not like you’ve never been the cause of any major casualties in this very same gym,” he says to Hinata.

“I what?!” Hinata squawks, whipping his head around to face him in shock. “That’s not tr—! I mean — Okay, maybe it is! But you should talk! You were there with me for most of them!”

“Just—” Tsukishima lets out a huff of air. “Worry about yourself.”

Hinata gives him an affronted look, then shifts his gaze back and forth between him and a Tobio. “You guys are seriously being so weird today.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen but he says nothing in response. Instead, he turns and walks towards the wall and picks up his water bottle.

“Just — be careful next time,” Tanaka chides.

“Yeah,” Tobio says with a slight bow of his head. “I will.”

Thankfully, not too long after this incident, Coach Ukai announces the end of practice. The relief on Tsukishima’s face is apparent as they all huddle in the center of the court for any final comments and Coach’s dismissal. Predictably, Tobio gets scolded again for causing injury to multiple members of the team and they’re reminded once more of the Interhigh preliminaries coming up in a week.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention!” Ukai-sensei says after pausing for a thought. “We were able to book a practice match here with Datekou for this Thursday! It’ll be a good and proper warm-up for the tournament so I expect you all to be at your best that day. Are we clear?”

“Osu!”

“Dismissed. Rest well tonight.”

The team disbands and starts heading for the locker room.

“You’re welcome for covering your ass,” Tsukishima mutters as he walks by. Tobio scowls.

“Kageyama!”

Both of them turn around. Hinata stands there holding a volleyball out in his hand.

Tsukishima winces, looking as though he’s trying not to openly sigh. Tobio flicks his gaze over to the volleyball, his heart pumping hard in his chest.

His chest burns with the desire to play more, to toss more. He feels like he’s only just started getting the hang of doing jump serves in Tsukishima’s body. If only Tobio could take his place in this post-practice ritual with Hinata. He’d do anything for more volleyball. It’s frustrating that Tsukishima never seems to feel the same.

“No thanks,” Tsukishima says, turning away towards the exit. Hinata’s grin drops and he gawks at Tsukishima, unable to comprehend. “We have a test tomorrow. You don’t want to fall behind, do you?”

“But—” Hinata starts.

“Not today,” Tsukishima reinstates firmly.

Tobio lingers by Hinata, fingers itching with want. Before he can do anything else however, Tsukishima pops his head back in and glares at him.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

Tobio clenches his fists. He wants to say no and stay behind, but there are so many uncertainties about their situation to hash out still and some small, weird part of him doesn’t want to let Tsukishima down either.

Wordlessly, Tobio sighs and follows him out the door, leaving a baffled and disappointed Hinata behind.

“Nice going, King,” Tsukishima says once they’re outside and headed for the club room. “Really great idea to go that hard in my body during practice. I looked like a crazy person.”

“I’m sorry!” Tobio yells. “I just — the opportunity was there — I couldn’t pass it up!”

“Opportunity?” Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “What on earth are you — oh, _ god. _Is this because of the eight centimeters I’ve got on you?”

Tobio slumps his shoulders and mutters, “Maybe…”

“God, you can't just—” Tsukishima breaks off with a frustrated groan. “It’s _ my _ body! Not yours! Can you not treat it like a borrowed library book? I don’t want to end up all bent and battered. Keep in mind that this institution — read: _ me _ — _ will _ fine you for returning it in worse condition.”

Tobio widens his eyes. “You can’t do that. Can you?”

“Try me,” Tsukishima snaps. With a scoff, he adds, “Why did I use a library metaphor anyway, you don’t even read.”

“I read sports magazines,” he states blankly.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “My mistake.”

“How come you didn’t get scolded today?” Tobio frowns. He’d been so sure someone like Hinata would’ve realized he wasn’t playing or tossing with his usual form or stamina.

“It’s called laying low,” Tsukishima answers. “You should try it sometime.”

When they reach the club room, they find that the majority of the boys have already changed and gone home. Only a few first year stragglers are gathering their stuff. The only person still present here despite being changed and ready to leave is Yamaguchi. With his head down and browsing his phone, he sits on a bench in the middle of the room, clearly waiting for someone.

“Tsukki!” he exclaims, his face lighting up the moment he spots Tobio. Tobio pauses and takes a step back, feeling alarmed by the immediate attention. He really doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to having such eager affection directed at him like this. “Ready to go whenever you are.”

“I — um—” Tobio gulps and steals a glance at Tsukishima, who rolls his eyes behind Yamaguchi and throws him a _ figure out how to get out of this yourself _ look before he starts stripping off his shirt.

Tobio turns back to Yamaguchi. As he stares down at his expectant teammate, a response in the form of Tsukishima’s voice begins to surface in his mind, one that he could definitely say to excuse himself from walking home with Yamaguchi without too much suspicion. But… 

_ No way, _ he scolds his brain. _ I’m not saying that. _

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”

His mouth is clamped tight in an attempt to think of something — anything else to say — but no matter how hard he tries, he still comes up short.

“I—” Tobio grits his teeth. There’s nothing for it now except this. Taking a deep breath, he rushes through the words. _ “The King needs my help studying.” _

Tsukishima’s face lights up with amusement as Yamaguchi tilts his head in confusion. Because he’s an ass, Tsukishima cups a hand over his mouth and asks, “What? Couldn’t hear you.”

The bastard.

“I got _ dragged _ into helping _ him _ study!” Tobio repeats, pointing a finger at a smirking Tsukishima, who rearranges his face back into a convincing scowl the moment Yamaguchi turns around and looks at him.

“Ohhh,” Yamaguchi nods, comprehending. He looks back at Tobio and beams. “That’s good, Tsukki! I’m glad you decided to do that. It’s about time you finally came around.”

It’s Tsukishima’s turn to go sour. At Yamaguchi’s words, he purses his lips, gathers his belongings and trudges towards the door.

“So hurry up then,” Tsukishima barks before slipping out of the room.

Tobio shrugs at Yamaguchi, who gets up from his seat and heads for the exit.

“See you tomorrow then, Tsukki! And good luck!” he adds before waving goodbye and walking out.

Tobio breathes a sigh of relief and rubs his chest. He hadn’t realized his heart had been pounding this hard.

Once he’s changed and ready to go, he joins Tsukishima outside. Tsukishima looks up from his phone when Tobio appears with a business-like expression on his face.

“I decided to start researching by the way,” he states, pocketing the phone and setting off at a trot. Tobio takes this as his cue to follow along. “Correct me if you don’t experience this the same way, but even though we’ve switched bodies, I don’t have any of your memories separate from my own. I also seem to be inhabiting my own mind still — thank _ God _ — even though technically I’m in your brain. Does that sound right to you?”

Tobio considers the matter. He tries to think back to his childhood — his first volleyball, his mother’s laugh, that monumental time he watched the Olympics on TV for the first time — but no memory of Tsukishima’s youth comes up.

“I guess so,” he replies.

“Right,” Tsukishima says, “So this suggests that it’s a matter of consciousness. If my consciousness and yours are still in tact, then we can rule out the more physical and extreme measures, such as the possibility that a brain transplant happened to us.”

“Okay…?” Tobio frowns. He’s not sure what Tsukishima means.

“Which means if my theory is correct, this isn’t a tangible, physical problem,” he continues.

“So…?”

“The good news with that is, we don’t need to get our hands messy trying to solve it, or involve anyone else to that degree. The bad news is, the parameters of our issue will be that much more difficult to define, which means it could get tricky and murkier as we try to determine the best course of action.”

Tobio’s head is spinning from all the big words Tsukishima is spewing out, and he’s speaking too fast for him to digest the meaning of each phrase. “Course of action?”

Tsukishima makes an impatient noise and glares up at him. “We’re going to see if we can find a way to switch back ourselves. Catch up, King.”

Tobio scowls. “So how do you suggest we do that?”

Tsukishima sighs. “We basically need to figure out how to swap consciousnesses again.”

Tobio considers this. Consciousness is a strange concept.

“Are you sure it can’t be the other way around?” he tries.

“What? Do you mean like, we physically swapped somehow but our consciousness still remained intact?”

Tobio tries to turn it over in his head but everything just feels more and more muddled. With a shrug, he says, “Sure, why not.”

“Hm,” Tsukishima hums, considering. “But that would imply our bodies physically traded places over night and I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen. Unless our exteriors somehow… transformed.”

Tobio doesn’t really get it but he says nothing. As Tsukishima goes on to explain another train of thought (_ “And anyway, the two are not so different…” _ ), Tobio studies his teammate’s — his own — face, trying to piece together and separate the fact that Tsukishima’s expressions and manner of speaking is now imprinted upon a mirror image of himself. It’s strange. Everything is strange. What does it really mean for him to inhabit someone else’s body? In a way, it _ is _physical. But in other ways, it’s also… not. Maybe it isn’t all that complicated. Maybe it’s just a matter of force.

“… and quite frankly, I’m not really the kind of person who’s in tune with the somatic sense of self anyway so I wouldn’t even know where to — what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tsukishima comes to a stop in the middle of the road and Tobio nearly runs into him. He purses his lips, still thinking hard, as a sudden impulse to move, to take action, rises up in him.

_ Maybe it’s just a matter of force. _

Before he can stop himself, Tobio grabs Tsukishima’s shoulders and slams their foreheads together. Pain bursts like stars exploding at his skull, sending him stumbling backwards, clutching at his face as the sound of Tsukishima’s surprised yell rings in his ears. His head throbs beneath his skin and Tobio shuts his eyes, mind drawn to focus on the physicality of it all.

“What — the _ fuck _ was that?” Tsukishima roars. His words travel through Tobio’s ears sounding like his own voice. He snaps open his eyes.

“Did it work?” he asks, but even as he speaks, the more nasally drawl of Tsukishima’s speech comes out of his mouth instead.

“‘Did it—?’ _ You nearly smashed my skull into pieces did _ WHAT _ work?! _”

Tobio rubs his forehead and looks up. His own body still stands before him with Tsukishima’s expression glaring out from between his fingers over his eyes, looking incensed beyond all reason.

“Oh. I just thought…” Tobio trails off with a grunt. “Well, it was worth a try.”

Tsukishima lets out a groan of frustration, clutching at his head even harder. “Oh you _ thought _ , did you? Did you think about what would’ve happened if you _ split your own head open _ ? What part of _ ‘not a tangible, physical problem’ _ did you not understand? I thought I made it clear we wouldn’t be able to snap our consciousness back through physical force. Those are my brain cells you’re damaging, you _ idiot _!”

“At least we know for sure now!” Tobio fires back, indignant.

“But at what cost?!” Tsukishima demands. With another frustrated groan, he continues rubbing his head and sets off again at a faster pace than before, muttering, “No warning whatsoever. Egotistical king.”

“You got a better idea?” Tobio calls out after him as he rushes to catch up.

“You’ll have to excuse me for not being able to think straight at this moment due to the possibility of me having a fucking concussion! _ God _. Fucking idiot!”

They walk in tense silence for some time, both still clearly fuming. Tsukishima manages to exude daggers from his back as he leads the way through the usual grassy path leading further away from school. Under the dim lighting of the moon, the rice paddy fields seem to stretch far off into the distance. Neither of them say anything for the rest of the walk.

When they finally reach the lamppost where their paths home split off, Tsukishima stops and turns to face him.

“I only have one idea so far, but it’s probably the best we’ve got,” he says. Then, in a low voice, mutters, “Better than your idea anyway…”

“What’s your plan, then?” Tobio forces out through gritted teeth.

Tsukishima huffs. “Okay. Well. As much as it pains me to admit this, your idea — albeit foolish, reckless, and rather masochistic — did help rule out several other theories.”

Tobio straightens up, feeling a smug smile pull at the edges of his lips. The subtle change in his expression does not go unnoticed by Tsukishima, who rushes to add, “Still a terrible idea though so don’t let it inflate your head too much, King.”

Tobio clenches his jaw. “You were saying?”

“Anyway,” Tsukishima continues. “What if we just go home tonight and go to bed like we normally do, but—”

He cuts off and falls silent, a grimace deepening on his face. The chill night air wraps around them, a light breeze rustling Tobio’s cheeks as he waits for Tsukishima to finish. Tsukishima drops his gaze down to the ground and turns his face away.

“Last night, when our minds switched, do you remember what you were doing and/or thinking about?”

Tobio tries to think back. It feels like it’s been a week since he was last in his own body.

“Uhh, I was watching some volleyball videos,” he says. He recalls the sudden onslaught of sleepiness that gripped him right in the middle of the game. “Then I got tired — like _ really _ tired. I started falling asleep at the computer so I went to bed.”

Tobio thinks back to that night again, how he brushed his teeth while feeling groggy beyond reason, how he knocked out the minute his head hit the pillow. There’s nothing else to say about it so he finishes with, “That’s all.”

“You didn’t think about…?” Tsukishima shakes his head and waves the thought away. “Never mind. What about the night before? Did you have any kind of dream or anything like that that could potentially be related?”

“Related to the switch?” Tobio asks, uncertain.

“No. Related to… well, yes, basically,” Tsukishima mumbles, looking put out about having to clarify.

Tobio considers the matter. The night before, he’d done more or less the same thing he did on Sunday. Hinata had texted him a few times but he had deemed them not urgent enough to respond. Nothing else out of the ordinary happened.

“No. Why? Did _ you _ have a weird dream?” he asks, unsure why Tsukishima is bringing it up in the first place.

“I — not really—” Tsukishima splutters, ears turning a shade of burgundy under the low lamplight. “Nothing of real relevance to the matter.”

Tobio blinks. Weird. “Um. What—?”

Tsukishima sighs. “Forget what I said. Here’s the theory: if our consciousnesses are the only things that switched, maybe we have to train them to focus on each other’s minds somehow.”

Tobio raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know — just — try to get into my headspace right before you go to bed tonight, and I’ll try to get into yours.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“If I had a clear cut answer I would tell you! Just—” Tsukishima groans, pinching his temple. “Do whatever you think it means to get into my headspace, and I’ll do the same. Just please don’t physically smash my head against anything ever again.”

Tobio’s head throbs even harder as he tries to contemplate what _ getting into Tsukishima’s headspace _might mean. Maybe he meant the way they think on the court? Or…?

“Anyway, keep my phone and headphones for now,” Tsukishima adds. “If this works, we’ll just be back to normal by tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Tobio asks. He still isn’t sure what Tsukishima means.

Tsukishima heaves an exasperated sigh and turns to leave.

“I don’t know, King,” he says with his back to him. “Bring my headphones tomorrow for starters. I’ll figure something else out then.”

And with that, he lifts a hand and casually waves himself out.

* * *

_ Try to get into my headspace. _

After showering and eating dinner, Tobio ponders this for a long time. What does it mean and how would it look like?

Around ten, he lays down in Tsukishima’s bed and stares up at the ceiling, thinking hard. What about that one blocking maneuver he did the other day, when they were playing a pickup game with the neighborhood association? What had he been thinking then?

Tobio sets the scene in his head: Tsukishima and him in front, the opposing team about to make their move. He watches in his mind’s eye as Tsukishima studies the other side of the net.

What are his eyes trained on? What’s he thinking as he prepares to jump? How is he predicting the trajectory of the ball? What is he waiting for? When will he—?

The phone buzzes on the table beside him, loud against its wooden surface. Tobio’s eyes snap open and he stretches out a hand to pick it up.

(10:29 PM) From: His Royal Highness  
_ If god forbid we don’t switch back by tomorrow, come early so we can exchange homework assignments _

Tobio frowns upon seeing his own nickname pop up. Given everything that happened over the course of the day, he had forgotten the brief flicker of irritation he’d felt upon seeing it this morning. Although the names don’t hold the same venom they used to the first time Tsukishima called him that, Tsukishima has never really referred to him by anything else and he’s not sure what to make of that.

Shelving the thought for now, Tobio types out a response.

_ We have morning practice _

_ I am aware _

Tobio stares at the first text again, guilt and shame bubbling up inside his chest. He knows without a doubt that Tsukishima will roast him for it, and if there was any way to avoid it, he absolutely would. Nevertheless, he has to be honest.

With a sigh, he types out another message.

(10:37 PM)  
_ I don’t know how to do the homework. _

(10:41 PM)  
_ Yes, I am also aware _

_ Isn’t it due tomorrow _

_ Sounds like a personal problem _

_ … Please. _

_ Glad you asked, King _

_ We’ll take care of it after morning practice then. _

Tobio sets the phone down over his chest as he tries to recapture the thought train he’d been on before the text. Tsukishima… and practice. What does he think about?

Tsukishima’s phone still feels warm in his hands. Maybe the answers aren’t as far away as he thinks.

Picking his phone back up, Tobio opens the messaging app and types out a question to him.

(11:03 PM)  
_ What goes through your head when you read block? _

_ What’s it matter to you? _

_ You’ve never bothered to ask before _

_ You said ‘headspace’ _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ Fine. _

_ But I don’t know if I can explain it well. _

_ Try me _

_ You know how the little monkey always uses nonsensical words like “gwah” and other ridiculous gibberish? _

_ I used to write it off as foolish crazy talk because there’s no meaning or insight in his tragically small lexicon. _

_ But over time (god I hate myself for saying this) I’ve come to realize that even though he’s spouting useless words, Hinata is processing the information somehow beneath the surface _

_ He just for the life of him cannot think of any other human way to express it _

_ I don’t know how to best explain the exact thoughts that go through my mind when analyzing other players _

_ But there’s a pattern behind everything _

_ You just have to look for it _

_ Pattern behind the opponents? _

_ Or your thoughts? _

_ Both. _

_ This isn’t helpful _

_ I told you it's hard to explain _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ There’s always a pattern to the way people think and behave _

_ That’s really all it is _

_ If you pay attention to the right things, you’ll notice _

_ Anyway I’m going to bed _

_ Hopefully will not wake up to your stupid dumbbells in the morning _

_ You have dinosaur toys on your shelves _

_ Excuse me those are FIGURINES _

_ And anyone would be blessed to wake up beside them _

_ So count your blessings and go the fuck to sleep _

_ Ok _

_ Goodnight _

_ Are you wishing me goodnight, King, that’s creepy _

_ What the fuck am I supposed to say then _

_ Sleep horribly _

_ Better _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ Night. _

  
  


* * *

☾

**.**

**.**

**.**

Kei wakes up in the morning with a throbbing headache. The pain is just as bad as the one from yesterday. It’s as though his mind’s been split open and his thoughts have been scrambled, compressed, and crammed back into his skull in the worst way possible. For a moment, he can’t remember the source for either headache, but as his mind starts to swim towards fuller wakefulness, memories from the day before start rushing back. If the migraine from yesterday was due to their swapping consciousness then maybe today’s might be… 

Eyes snapping open, he sits up at once and looks around, heart pounding fast. If his idea worked… if it _ actually _worked…

Kei blinks and is thrown back once again by the sharpness of his vision. _ No… _ this can’t be happening. His eyesight is still too good. Taking a deep breath, he lets his gaze fall to the floor next to him where, sure enough, a pair of 5 kg dumbbells sit on the carpet next to a volleyball.

Slapping a hand to his forehead, he releases his breath in a frustrated groan. Everything still hurts. Maybe if Kageyama hadn’t tried to crack open his skull, he’d at least be feeling a lot better right now. This is literally the worst living nightmare.

_ Stay calm, _he berates himself as he tries to slow his heart rate. Reaching out an arm, he picks up Kageyama’s phone from the nightstand, prepared to search for his own name again. When he taps the surface, however, he sees that there’s already a message notification from himself on his screen.

(5:10 AM) From: 月島  
_ It didn’t work. _

The text induces the biggest eye roll from Kei. Pulling the app up, he types out a response.

(5:21 AM)  
_ I am aware _

_ Maybe you didn’t think hard enough _

_ Me?? What about you??? _

_ Never mind _

_ Force of habit _

_ Guess I was wrong about headspaces _

_ What if we’re stuck like this forever _

_ I refuse to let that happen _

_ I just don’t know how long it’ll be before we figure it out _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ I’m changing my name in your phone then _

_ What no _

_ But ‘His Royal Highness’ is so fitting _

_ And I’ve gotten too used to it _

_ Also that is a violation of personal property _

_ And not to mention sacred trust _

_ … Trust? _

_ …Okay fine. That’s fair _

_ I haven’t earned it _

_ Whatever then. _

_ Do whatever you want. _

(05:28 AM)  
_ You didn’t actually change it did you _

_ You really don’t want me to? _

_ Will you leave it if I say yes? _

_ [ . _ ** _._ ** _ . ] _

_ If it really means that much to you _

_ [ _ <strike> _ it doesn’t _ </strike> _ <<<<<<<<<] _

_ FINE _

_ Don’t change it _

_ Is that a yes _

_ Just get dressed I’ll see you at school King _

_ AND BRING MY HEADPHONES _

* * *

Practice, predictably, is a total nightmare. 

Although Kei had been able to avoid overt scrutiny the day before, he should have known it was only a matter of time before his good luck would soon run out. The moment he steps into the gym with Kageyama, he’s bombarded by Hinata racing around him like an overeager puppy, obviously here to demand tosses from him.

“O_ kay _, keep it in your pants,” Kei grouses as Hinata jumps repeatedly up and down before him. “Just give me a second.”

How does the King put up with this on the daily? Simply being on the receiving end of Hinata’s excited enthusiasm makes Kei’s energy level, already very low upon waking up so early, drop even further. Worser still, when Kei goes to set his water bottle down by the side of the court, Kageyama passes by and flashes him one of the slyest shit-eating smirks he’s ever seen and— no, that’s not fair. That’s not fair at all. Kei knows he has his own range of shit-eating grins — the King doesn’t get to introduce that sort of smile on Kei’s own features and make it look _ better _ than Kei does himself.

Utterly ridiculous.

After throwing his towel down with his water, Kei takes a deep breath, faces Hinata, and walks head first towards what he is sure is guaranteed misery.

“What’s with you?” Hinata asks as he steps inside the court. “You look awful.”

Kei stares at him, feeling dead inside.

“I won this morning by the way!” he adds. “Where were you?”

It takes Kei a full thirty seconds to realize what he means. _ God. The fucking _ racing _ . _How are these two idiots still alive?

“Really bad headache,” Kei deadpans, opting for the truth. He scowls as Hinata continues to buzz around him on his toes. “I think it’s getting worse.”

“Well feel better already, we didn’t get to do extra practice yesterday!” he demands, getting into position.

Conceding defeat, Kei stands across from Hinata and prepares for the worst.

It’s not like Kei has never played the setter role before — he’s successfully pulled off a few scores with Asahi-san and Yamaguchi after all — but most of those moments have all been sheer luck. He can set just fine under low pressure circumstances, but when it comes to precision, stamina, and honed skill, there is no doubt Kageyama is leagues above him.

While the rest of the team starts picking up their own choice of practice, Kei does his best to send toss after toss to Hinata.

It works — sort of. If his tosses are lacking in quality in any way, Hinata doesn’t say anything. In fact, Kei is surprised he hasn’t cracked yet; he’s pretty sure he can feel Hinata’s frustration through every spike he hits. It’s only a matter of time before he starts to complain.

Sure enough, just as Kei is starting to maybe get the hang of this, Hinata lands on both feet after a jump and glares at Kei.

“What’s _ with _ you today?!” he demands, stepping up to him.

Kei leans back away from him and glances over at Kageyama. He’s busy practicing jump serves and looking moody about it. The sight causes the corner of Kei’s lips to twitch upwards.

“Are you slacking off again?” Hinata asks, appearing suddenly in his face and obscuring Kei’s view with his orange hair.

“No, I never slack off,” he snipes back, taking a step back. “I’m a volleyball idiot like you, aren’t I?”

Hinata staggers backward and gives him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kei amends. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say. “So what if I’m having an off day? We’re not superhuman.”

“You’re not tossing with the spin,” Hinata points out. Tilting his head, he frowns. “Have you been sick the last few days or something? You still look really awful.”

“Thanks,” Kei says, rolling his eyes. “I really needed to hear that.”

“No, I mean, seriously,” Hinata presses. “Maybe you should stay home if you’re not feeling well. Remember what Takeda-sensei said about recognizing your limits — although… this means I’ll get to be on the court longer than you for once, ha!”

“I’ll be fine!” Kei yells. He hates himself for even thinking it but he’s sure the King wouldn’t want that. “Can we just — practice separately today? I need to work on my own things.”

Hinata looks taken aback. “Oh. Okay, sure. You could’ve just told me that earlier.”

“Well I’m telling you now,” Kei says. With a deep sigh, he rubs at his temple and mutters, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Hinata reassures, recovering already. “Don’t mind!”

And with that he runs off towards the second years shouting, “Nishinoya-senpai!! Toss to me!”

With a relieved sigh, Kei heads over to the other side of the court where Kageyama is still trying to perfect a jump serve in Kei’s body.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t get too good at those,” Kei tells him as he approaches. “I wouldn’t want to live up to any unwanted expectations once we switch back.”

Kageyama staggers a bit after slamming a ball over the net and into the court. It’s insane how quickly it’s taken for him to already have gotten pretty good at it. Straightening up, he wipes his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and turns to Kei.

“You can start practicing them too, you know,” he says, taking on a candid, matter-of-fact tone. “It’s gonna look weird at the practice match on Thursday if you don’t do them.”

“Right,” Kei grumbles, stepping closer towards him. With all the commotion of volleyball practice going on around them, he doesn’t think the others can overhear them, but just as a precaution, he gets close enough to see the sweat glistening over the King’s forehead and lowers his voice to add, “I came to talk to you about that actually.”

Kageyama gives him a sidelong glance and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Kei purses his lips and looks away. This whole thing — Kageyama’s piqued curiosity, the upward tick of his eyebrow, the eventual smug smile Kei _ knows _ will grace his face the moment Kei makes the request of His Majesty — it’s the worst and he hates it.

Crossing his arms, he mutters in a quiet voice: “Help me perfect my tosses.”

Just as Kei predicted, Kageyama’s lips start to curl.

“What did you say?” he asks. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Kei clenches his fists. “I need you. To help me. Perfect my tosses.”

Kageyama’s smirk is full blown now. He looks as pleased as he did the first time he pushed Kei to jump higher for his toss and it’s irritating how becoming it is on Kei’s own physical features. His ears are suddenly feeling a little too warm and the air inside the gym grows hot and stifling around him.

In an attempt to squash whatever feeling it is that’s arising in him, Kei glares at the floor and adds in a low mumble, “Don’t get too cocky, King. You still need me to pass your classes.”

Despite his jab, the smirk doesn’t fade from Kageyama’s face.

“We can practice in the courtyard after school,” he suggests. “Then switch to homework at my place once it gets dark.”

Kei sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I’m going to agree to this, but fine. Let’s do it. It’s probably for the best. Except let’s use _ my _place.”

“Fine” Kageyama says, picking up a volleyball and pushing it at Kei’s chest. “Right now though, we have to do something about that sorry serve of yours.”

Kei scowls and opens his mouth to retort when a loud booming voice startles them.

“Oi! Less talking, more practice!” Coach Ukai calls out.

The two of them hurriedly bow their heads in Ukai’s direction, Kei’s scowl deepening. Taking the ball from Kageyama, he walks over and stands about a meter behind the back line.

“Stand a little closer,” Kageyama directs. “And move your right foot back.”

Kei glares at him but does as he’s told. “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you, King?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow.

“Well? Go on,” he says with a smug smile, spinning another volleyball between his hands and looking expectant.

Kei turns to face the net. He doesn’t do these often enough to begin with let alone in a completely different body. He thinks he can envision how it’s supposed to go though: toss the ball into the air, run towards it and jump. How hard can it be?

_ Here goes nothing. _

Readying his arm, Kei throws the ball up and moves forward. With a bend of his knees, he springs up towards it and slams it hard. The ball zooms towards the net—

And hits Hinata square in the back.

With a yelp, the small spiker stumbles forward a few steps, then whips around, looking for the culprit.

Kei points at Kageyama at once and says, “It was his fault.”

Kageyama frowns at him as Hinata lets out a groan of frustration and starts to march over towards them.

“You’re throwing yourself under the bus?” Kageyama mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” Kei hisses back. “I already got you a strike with Hinata earlier so consider this repayment.”

“I don’t care about that,” Kageyama whispers as Hinata gets closer.

“Have you two been conspiring against me or something this week?!” Hinata asks, stopping in front of them and pointing an accusing finger at Kei. “You especially! You’re helping Tsukishima with jump serves aren’t you?”

“What?” Kei almost squawks. “I’m not— He doesn’t even _ need _ the h—”

He falls silent when Kageyama gives him a pointed look.

“You are!” Hinata accuses. “You might have said.”

Kei scoffs. “I don’t have to explain everything to you.”

The comment doesn’t seem to phase Hinata at all. Instead, the shorter boy rubs his chin, looking deep in thought.

“Hmmm, you know what? I think I get it,” Hinata nods sagely to himself. “It’s because of what we talked about last week, isn’t it?”

_ What did we talk about? _ Kei wonders. _ Or rather, _ he corrects in his head, _ what did Hinata and _ Kageyama _ talk about? _

He shifts his gaze over to Kageyama for any clues. Kageyama shakes his head behind Hinata. (Okay… he’s going to have to ask about that later.)

For now, he looks down at Hinata and says, “No.”

“Okay,” Hinata replies in a disbelieving tone. “Sure.”

_ What would be the fastest way to get Hinata off my case right now? _ But even as he thinks it, the second he meets Kageyama’s eye again, he knows what words would make the most sense.

Gritting his teeth, he mutters, “I took pity on Tsukishima. You know, after what happened yesterday. So I’m helping him. So just carry on with practice.”

Kei doesn’t have to look up to know that Kageyama is probably smirking at him right now.

“Pffff, you don’t have to sound so put out about it,” Hinata says, trying to suppress a laugh. This is not at all the intended effect Kei’s words were supposed to have on him. Leaning in, he says quietly in a low voice, “I’m impressed you actually took what I said to heart. It’s good that you two are practicing together.” Straightening up, he adds with a confident smile, “Although, this means I need to work on my serves too!”

“Yes, you go do that,” Kei encourages. _ ‘Took what I said to heart’? What’s that about? _

“But you guys have to stop hitting me in the back of the head!” Hinata yells, pointing a finger at Kageyama.

“Okay, we won’t then!” Grabbing Kageyama by the collar, Kei pulls and starts to drag him off the court. Kageyama stumbles along with him with a yelp, a ball still in his hands. “We’ll take this outside.”

“Ooooh, have fun!” Hinata calls out after them.

Kei doesn’t look back as he stalks past the rest of the team until they reach the courtyard outside.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kageyama asks the moment Kei lets go of him, rubbing his neck where his shirt collar dragged at him.

“Moving our practice? It’s difficult enough to figure this out without the added factor of injuring our teammates.”

“We can’t do jump serves out here,” Kageyama argues. “We’ll lose the ball.”

“Oh.” Admittedly, Kei had not thought about that. “Well — I don’t like practicing with everyone when we’re like this, it’s bound to cause problems.”

Kageyama sighs, holding the ball against his own forehead in thought. “We could work on setting first, I suppose.”

“Wait,” Kei pinches the bridge of his nose. _ Everything is in chaos _. “I think we need to lay some ground rules first — it doesn’t look like this whole body problem is going to fix itself any time soon.”

“Okay,” Kageyama says, bringing the ball down to rest at his side. “Like what.”

“First of all, we switch phones after practice,” Kei lists, “Second, I need my headphones. Third, you ask Yachi for class notes everyday before we meet up and exchange homework. Fourth—”

“Those are all about you,” Kageyama interrupts. “How about Four: you need to drink more milk. I’m falling behind on calcium intake. Five—”

Reaching out, he grabs Kei’s hand and holds it up between them. The intensity in Kageyama’s eyes sends a chill down his spine and his skin burns where Kageyama’s fingers — _ Kei’s _ fingers — grip it.

“You file my nails properly. They’re getting too long. Six—”

On a compulsive whim, Kei snatches his hand away and takes a step back.

“_ Six _,” Kei stresses, trying to keep his voice level as he commandeers the list back from Kageyama. “You stop pushing my body to the same limits as yours.”

“Seven,” Kageyama counters. “You _ will _master a jump serve by the end of this week.”

“Eight—” Kei falters. _ What else is he missing? _ “Oh. I actually don’t have anything else to add. I just had to have the last word.”

“Eight…” Kageyama frowns. “Don’t lose to Hinata when you race to the gym.”

“No,” Kei rejects. “Absolutely not. I refuse to ever take part in such childish activities.”

“We could come an hour earlier to practice jump serves if that helps,” Kageyama suggests.

“What — You—” Kei splutters. “_ Are you suggesting extra volleyball practice at such an ungodly hour? _”

Kageyama shrugs. “Yeah. What of it? We’re going to need it if we’re still stuck like this by Saturday.”

“Ugh, God forbid,” Kei groans, clapping a hand to his forehead and dragging it down his face. “Still. I can’t agree to this.”

Kageyama tilts his head and purses his lips, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “You need me to show up to class for attendance don’t you?”

Kei grimaces. “Don’t you dare.”

“What?” Kageyama snaps. “You think I’m any happier than you about this? I don’t like it any more than you do but we don’t have a choice! We—”

Gritting his teeth, he looks away, glaring down at the ground. With a sigh, he continues.

“It’s like Hinata said. We’re teammates. And right now, we’re stuck like this, so you need to rely on me whether you like it or not. I’m just pointing it out. So now the question is, can I rely on you?”

Kageyama looks him in the eye, his jaw hardening with his resolve.

Kei takes a deep breath and releases a long exhale through his nose. If _Kageyama_ is suggesting they actually try to work together, Kei really must be the shittiest person on the team. Every fiber of his being screams in protest against the idea of extra _and _early practice but as much as he loathes to admit it, Kageyama really does have a point.

“Fine,” he says with a biting edge, as though the very word cost him his life. He really is not looking forward to spending so much time with Kageyama. “We’ll do it. I’ll start preparing my grave now.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to be _ that _ bad.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Kei mutters darkly.

Kageyama sighs. “It is what it is. We deal with it how we can. Isn’t that how it always is?”

Kei gives a reluctant twitch of his lips. “Unfortunately.”

“Right. So—”

“Oi! Are you two practicing or not?” comes Ukai’s voice from across the yard.

Alarmed, the two of them snap to attention and turn around.

“Yes, sir!” they shout back in unison.

“Tsukishima, you’re needed in our three man blocking practice,” Ukai says. “Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long.”

“Osu!”

Kageyama starts to head back to the gym, Kei following suit behind him. When he reaches the door, he pauses and turns to Kei.

“We’ll do setting work during afternoon practice,” he says. “Then homework?”

Kei gives a one shouldered shrug. It doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice either way. “Yeah.”

Kageyama shoves the ball he’s been holding into Kei’s chest.

“Just keep practicing jump serves.”

And with that, he leaves Kei’s side to join Hinata and Narita-san on the court.

“Um…” a timid voice pipes up from behind him.

Kei turns to see Fujimura, one of the first year guys holding a ball out to him. The younger boy takes a step back nervously when Kei lays eyes on him.

“Can you show me how you do a jump serve, Kageyama-san?”

Kei has to resist face palming. The Kingly ruler and his little royal subjects. It would be cute if Kei weren’t the one stuck in this situation. How often does Kageyama get requests like this?

“Sorry,” he says with a grim expression. “Not today.”

He looks over at Kageyama, Hinata, and Narita practicing on the other side of the court where Kageyama is already getting the hang of blocking in Kei’s body. The sight ignites a fire within him; a familiar, burning thirst to rise up and prove himself on the court.

_Just wait, _he thinks as he watches Fujimura head back towards his other teammates. Turning towards the other side of the gym, he walks over to the second country with a volleyball in tow. _Maybe_ _tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the one after that._

_ Maybe by then, we’ll be back to normal. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am really sorry to hinata.
> 
> it's so close to the holiday season now ahhhhh! i'm aiming to update this monthly at the latest though so look forward to that ^.^ thanks for reading along if you're here.. you're all angels to me. i hope this lengthier chapter was sufficient fun :D


	4. i go for a ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hinata gets used as a guinea pig, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FROM PERU!! I'm uhhhh still updating while on vacation because I'm crazy alsjdlak but really I was so close to finishing that I decided to just wrap it up and post it :D Unfortunately this does mean no updates for probably another month or more >_> but until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

♚

When practice ends, Tsukishima makes a beeline for the club room at once. Remembering that they still have to exchange phones and homework, Tobio leaves Yamaguchi’s side and follows him before the rest of the team starts to head out of the gym.

When he enters the room, Tsukishima is already halfway done changing out of his uniform. His movements are rushed and harried as he stuffs his exercise shoes back into his bag. It dawns on him as Tobio continues to stare, that seeing such behavior coming from Tobio’s own body, more than anything, alerts him to the fact that Tsukishima must be frustrated with himself.

Unbidden, the observations from Ennoshita-san and Hinata about their old senpai echo in his mind.

_ ‘I think that Sugawara-san makes sure to pay attention to all of the spikers’ expressions as well as how they’re doing that day.’ _

_ ‘Sugawara-san gives you nice compliments when you get one in!’ _

“Uh — U-um…” 

It occurs to Tobio that maybe he should say something positive about his jump serves, considering it’s probably Tsukishima’s first time trying it out with such great focus, but before he can even start, Tsukishima speaks first.

“Go on. Just say it, King,” he says in a low voice. “ _ ‘Your serves are lousy.’ _ ”

Tobio closes his mouth, momentarily stunned.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he tells him.

Tsukishima scoffs. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I do,” Tobio says, bewildered at where this is all coming from. “Because it’s the truth.”

“But even if you weren’t going to say it,” Tsukishima continues, turning to glare at him. “You were probably still thinking it anyway, weren’t you?”

Tobio frowns. He can’t really in all honesty argue against that as he had been looking over at Tsukishima during his spare moments to check on his progress and had indeed been  _ ‘thinking it anyway.’ _ Are Tsukishima’s jump serves actually lousy? A little at the moment, yes, but even Tobio’s serves wouldn’t be what they are now without the amount of practice and sweat he’s put into it over time. All things considered, Tsukishima isn’t doing too bad. So while he may not yet be at the current level of confidence and accuracy Tobio’s finessed over time through experience, it hasn’t been looking completely hopeless either.

Tsukishima, however, seems to have read the worst in his face.

“Yeah,” he mutters, turning to wipe his face with a towel. “Thought so.”

Whatever positivity Tobio has been trying to gear up to say evaporates. If Tsukishima is going to pull this defeatist attitude, then maybe he’d give him the Hinata treatment, positivity be damned.

Nice words and supportive talk have never really been his thing anyway.

“So what if you suck at jump serves still?” Tobio challenges. “It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been new at something.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Tsukishima intones. “But while that’s all fine and good, if we don’t switch back soon, then I only have a week to perfect it, otherwise the match will be a disaster, and we can kiss any hope of victory goodbye.”

“Well, it’s the same for me filling your shoes,” Tobio reasons, “I want to win, too!”

“Oh if only I could break down my life as simply and as two dimensioned as winning and losing like you,” Tsukishima says scathingly. “Think about it. You’re a player who catches viewer attention. People are always going to be looking at you.”

“People look at you, too,” Tobio points out. He’s not really sure why Tsukishima is getting so worked up over this.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, riddle me this,” Tsukishima says as he pulls his school uniform on and starts buttoning them up. “What if someone important, say a university or olympics coach, someone who’s already been keeping their eye on you, comes to the game this Saturday and sees you flop every jump serve and set throughout the game?”

Tobio frowns. “And?”

“Aren’t you—?” Tsukishima seems to be taken aback by his lack of reaction. “Wouldn’t you be devastated if your good volleyball standing dropped or you missed out on some significant future prospects because of me?”

_ Oh.  _ Tobio hadn’t considered that. But even as Tsukishima brings it up now, he doesn’t feel anything akin to worry.

“I don’t know,” he says. For all he knows, Tobio could care less who is in the audience during their match. There’s not even a guarantee that what Tsukishima says will even happen. “You’re saying all this based on a…  _ what if _ ?”

“Whatever,” Tsukishima replies. Now that he’s finished changing, he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks past him towards the door. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

A vein throbs in Tobio’s temple. It’s infuriating when Tsukishima gets like this. Turning around, he shouts, “What are you trying to say then?”

Tsukishima stops at the door. Craning his neck back, he says in his falsely pleasant voice, “I don’t really feel like spelling it out for you, so no thank you and goodbye.”

Tobio clenches his fists and glares at him, feeling a familiar anger bubbling up inside of him. Gritting his teeth, he yells, “Just say it!” right as Tsukishima places his hand on the door knob.

With a frustrated snarl, Tsukishima turns and barks out in Tobio’s own deep, gruff tones.

“You are a lot of pressure to live up to, okay?!”

Tobio’s eyes widen.  _ Him? _ Being a lot of pressure? Why would he—?

“I’m not— I’ll never reach your level in a week, or even a million years,” Tsukishima continues. “So just forget about winning. It’s a waste of time for me to try and perfect the skills you’ve honed. It’s better if we focus on switching back first.”

_ My level?  _ Tobio’s ears are ringing with confusion. If Tsukishima is talking about “reaching” his “level” then…

At that moment, Tsukishima gives a startled yelp as the door to the club room bangs open. A chatter of voices fill the air as the team starts filing in haphazardly, bumping shoulders with Tsukishima as they go. With one final glare, Tsukishima turns and wades through the stream of boys crowding in and disappears out on the other side.

Tobio blinks as the implication of his words slowly sinks in. So Tsukishima thinks he’s below Tobio’s level. That’s… unexpected.

He’s reminded of Tsukishima’s sudden spike in intensity and resolve near the end of their summer camp last year. Before that, the middle blocker had been slipping away from the same drive that lit a fire under everyone else. He’s never had a conversation with Tsukishima before about it, too focused on his own task of mastering a new toss, but everything seemed to work out in the end anyway. How on earth did Tsukishima get back on his feet back then?

“You okay, Tsukki?” a voice asks to his left.

Tobio turns to see Yamaguchi frowning up at him.

“Oh… yeah,” he mumbles awkwardly. Then, remembering that Tsukishima is supposed to switch phones and help him with homework, he quickly starts changing back into his school uniform so he can chase after him.

“You’re in a hurry,” Yamaguchi observes as Tobio zips his bag up.

“I — uh — forgot something,” he says before slinging the strap over his shoulder and making a beeline straight for the door.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi calls out after him, but too late, Tobio’s already slipped outside.

“God, that took you long enough,” comes Tsukishima’s voice from behind him.

Tobio whips around. “Wha—”

“Don’t worry,” Tsukishima sighs as he pushes away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “I wouldn’t forget about my pho—  _ Why are you still wearing those? _ ”

He points at Tobio’s glasses, looking distinctly horrified.

“Oh,” Tobio shrugs. He honestly hadn’t even noticed he forgot to change them out, but now that they’ve been brought to his attention, he’s more aware of how much less cumbersome they are. He likes that these ones don’t keep slipping off his nose. “I dunno. Can’t I just wear these? You’re gonna be wearing them at afternoon practice later anyway.”

“ _ ‘Can’t I just—?’ _ ” Tsukishima chokes, sounding way more crazed than Tobio thinks the situation warrants. “No you may not! I look stupid in those with my school uniform, walking about outside of club activities like some dumb jock! Do you have no taste? Sports glasses are for playing sports, everyday glasses are for — well —  _ everyday! _ ”

“Okay! Fine!” Tobio yells, rummaging in his bag for the glasses case. “Just calm down!”

“Calm?” Tsukishima repeats, his voice higher pitched than usual. “I am the epitome of calm! You are the one disrupting order with these nonsensical ideas! Maybe you’d have room to think about that more if your one brain cell wasn’t fully dedicated to  _ volleyball all the time _ .”

Having retrieved the other pair, Tobio pulls off the sports glasses and replaces them with the normal ones. Anything to shut Tsukishima up at this point.

“Happy?” he asks once the change is done.

“Just marginally,” Tsukishima grumbles. They glare at each other for a moment before Tsukishima finally sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Anyway…” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls his phone out and holds it up to Tobio. Tobio takes out the other device and swaps with him.

“And headphones?”

With a scowl, Tobio digs into his bag again and hands him the headphones. As Tsukishima stows them away, Tobio fidgets with the strap and glares at the floor. He doesn’t want to have to ask or say anything about the next point of discussion but he knows if he needs it to happen, then he has to.

At long last, he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “H-homework?”

“Hmm?” and just like that, Tsukishima’s smirk is back again. Cupping his ear, he says, “Couldn’t hear you.”

Turning away, he starts walking ahead towards the main part of their school campus, leaving Tobio to seethe behind him.

“I said help me with homework!” he shouts as he hurries after him.

“Ah, you could’ve said that the first time,” Tsukishima replies in that usual airy tone. He checks his phone for the time. “Well, we have fifteen minutes. Only let’s go somewhere our teammates won’t find. We don’t want to give our wild beast a heart attack if he ever sees a vision of you tutoring me.”

* * *

For the rest of their time leading up until the bell rings for the start of class, they hide themselves away in the shoe locker room and Tobio fills out as much as he possibly can on his assignments — at least for the worksheets from the classes before lunch. Tsukishima, of course, is his usual impatient self as he goes through the work with him.

_ “No — of course that’s not how you spell  _ ‘camaraderie’ _ — did I not go over this with you and Hinata a few months ago?” _

_ “Seriously? Given your straightforward attitude and the fact that these are all based on the information right in front of you, I thought geometry proofs would be right up your alley.” _

In the end, Tsukishima snatches the final paper away from Tobio and starts filling out the answers himself.

“I’ll teach you how to do the rest of this worksheet at lunch tomorrow,” he tells him. “For now, we only have about six minutes left before we have to turn these in.”

They’re sitting opposite but next to each other on a bench in a secluded corner, heads bent over pages of Tobio’s geometry assignments. As Tsukishima writes out his work for each answer, Tobio leans in and studies his hurried scrawls over his shoulder. Maybe if he watches Tsukishima solve each problem, he can maybe start to understand his thought process behind it.

“Can you not breathe over my neck? It’s distracting.”

“What?” Tobio leans away at once. “I wasn’t even—”

Tsukishima doesn’t look up. Nor does he move away. He simply keeps on writing.

“Whatever. Just let me focus, King. I have a lot to get through.”

“Sorry.”

Normally, Tobio wouldn’t feel bad about Tsukishima giving up some of his so called “precious” time to tutor him — he never has in the past — but in light of the situation they’re in and how much strain is being placed upon the other boy with learning jump serves and doing double the homework and catch up for class, Tobio can’t help the rising guilt gnawing at his stomach. A part of him mildly regrets not paying attention in class more regularly. After all, Tsukishima is genuinely putting in a lot of effort to fill his part.

“Why are you helping me if it’s just my grades that are tanking?” he asks.

Tsukishima still doesn’t look up from his work. “What? Do you  _ not _ want me to help you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Tobio frowns. “I’m just surprised you would.”

Tsukishima stays silent and keeps up his fast scribbling of answers even as the bell rings for class. He’s nearly at the bottom of the page as the sound of students milling about outside start to drift in. Still, he continues to write.

Finally, when he reaches the end, he fills in the last blank on Tobio’s geometry worksheet and gathers up all his homework together into a folder.

“It’s like I said to Hinata yesterday,” he says, getting up from his seat and avoiding Tobio’s eye. “Especially since we have no idea how long our predicament will last, if either of us don’t pass our classes, we’re all screwed.”

“Hm.” That makes sense. “Well… th…thanks…”

“Don’t bother.” Lifting his bag onto his shoulder, Tsukishima starts heading out without him. “It’s creepy when you thank me.”

Grabbing his own bag, Tobio hurries after him.

When they reach Tobio’s classroom, Tsukishima suddenly stops in his tracks and turns on his heels to face him, causing Tobio to nearly collide with him.

“I thought of a ninth rule by the way,” he says, face completely deadpan. Tobio sways on his feet as he regains his balance. “You can’t keep blowing Yamaguchi off.”

Whatever Tobio expected, it wasn’t this.

“Oh. Uh — sure, okay,” he replies with a shrug. “I didn’t think I was…”

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” Tsukishima tells him impatiently. “Just stop doing it. Now get to class.”

And with that, he whirls back around and walks into Tobio’s classroom.

* * *

Tobio barely makes it to class on time before the second bell rings. Yamaguchi’s head perks up when he walks in. The second Tobio sits down, the other boy leans in over his shoulder and hisses, “What happened to you?”

Tobio scowls. He really doesn’t want to explain it.

“Just… got caught up in homework,” he whispers back.

Yamaguchi looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Tobio opens his mouth but is fortunately saved from having to utter a response as the teacher calls their attention to the front of the classroom at that exact moment. Turning around in his seat, he pulls out a notebook and does his best to look attentive.

_ You can’t keep blowing Yamaguchi off. _

It’s not that Tobio is purposely trying to be rude to Yamaguchi, but he can’t comprehend how on earth their friendship works. Is he really expected to keep up with their homework, the class material he’s missing, volleyball practice,  _ extra _ volleyball practice,  _ and _ Yamaguchi? What do the two of them even talk about usually?

Not wanting to think about it anymore, Tobio shoves the thought to the back of his mind and turns his attention back to the classroom.

Just as it did yesterday, however, the subject material flies over his head and he finds his mind wandering back onto the court. He’s getting more accustomed to doing jump serves in Tsukishima’s body, but how to work with Tsukishima on setting?

Picking up his pencil, he starts to draw out more plays and ideas on Tsukishima’s notebook.

When their first class ends, Yamaguchi corners him at the start of their five minute break.

“So what happened after practice?” Yamaguchi asks. “How come you got to class so late?”

“Oh…” Tobio figures there’s no use lying about it. “It’s like I said. Homework…”

“What? But you never leave homework for the last minute. Are you okay? Did you stay up really late last night?” Before Tobio can answer, Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, comprehension dawning on his face. “Ohhh wait, didn’t you say you were going to help Kageyama?” His lips curl into a smile. “So that’s what you meant by homework. How did that go?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs.  _ What would Tsukishima say? _ “Terrible.”

“Aw,” Yamaguchi chuckles. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Tobio stares into his teammate’s earnest expression and sincerely wishes he doesn’t have to suffer through this.

“It was,” he says quietly. “He barely finished his geometry worksheet this morning.”

Yamaguchi laughs much louder this time. “Oh boy. Patience, Tsukki. Patience. It’s like what we talked about. I think it’s good you’re trying to get along with him.”

Tobio frowns.

“You — I mean…  _ We _ talked about this?” he asks.

Yamaguchi gives him a disbelieving look. “Really, Tsukki? I know you have this weird… aversion to being friends with Kageyama or something — even though I know you don’t actually hate him — but you don’t have to deny it that hard.”

Tobio blinks, feeling completely bewildered.  _ Tsukishima doesn’t  _ hate _ me? _

“I'm not— Wait. What aversion?”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Yamaguchi reassures with a smile. “At this point I just know you too well. Unfortunately, that also means I know when you’re bullshitting.”

Tobio turns away so that Yamaguchi can’t see his bewildered expression. He’s sure when Tsukishima told him not to abandon Yamaguchi so often, he hadn’t had  _ this _ in mind as a topic of conversation their fellow teammate would bring up.

“Your jump serves are coming along nicely though,” Yamaguchi pipes up. “I was watching earlier. You know, I have to say I’m kind of surprised. Er—” he waves his hands wildly in front of him. “Not because I’m surprised you’re doing them, of course! But you got right into it without any hesitation at all.”

“Hesitation?” Tobio asks with a frown.

“Yeah, you know,” Yamaguchi says, a look of confusion spreading across his face. “I mean… isn’t it how you always approach things? You're the type to think before you act, but sometimes you premeditate too much. Often to the detriment of your own potential.”

“Oh…” Tobio trails off, looking down at the floor. He isn’t sure what to say. That would sort of fit with Tsukishima’s sour mood earlier at having to dive right into jump serves.

“S-so it’s a good thing you’re trying new moves now!” Yamaguchi rushes to affirm. “I think it’s really cool!”

“Oh, um…” Tobio glances around the room. “It’s really n-nothing special…”

Yamaguchi laughs. “What’s with you today? And if anything, it just makes me more excited to see you do them in our match on Saturday!”

Tobio breathes out a small sigh.

“Yeah, well… don’t get your hopes up.”

* * *

**月島 ** (10:35 AM)

**\-------------------------------------------**

_ You didn’t end up changing your name _

_ ? You told me not to _

_ Are you disappointed I didn’t? _

_ No but I’m disappointed you’re responding in class _

_ This was a test message to see if you were paying attention _

_ I don’t know calculus _

_ I thought we were just going to ask Yachi for notes _

_ Yeah but you could at least look the part _

_ ????? _

_ You’re the one who texted me _

_ I’ve already read The Great Gatsby twice _

_ I have nothing better to do in your class _

_ Speaking of, give me my assignments today at lunch again _

_ I’m dying _

_ Okay but _

_ You have to help me _

_ Be more specific _

_ YOU KNOW WHAT I’M ASKING _

_ Sorry King you’ll have to submit a formal request _

_ I need your help _

_ On homework _

_ Happy? _

_ Delighted _

_ See you in two hours _

* * *

☾

Between sitting through Kageyama’s boring classes and helping Kageyama on his homework during lunch, Kei does research. A lot of research.

He’s gone through almost every avenue by now — witchcraft, magic spells, consciousness sci-fi theories — but none of them seem very realistic (not that body swapping itself is realistic either, but at this point, what does Kei know?). The problem with them is that Kei cannot recall any behavioral symptoms or indicators they did that could’ve possibly prompted such a thing to occur. They simply woke up one morning and  _ voila! _ Changed.

It’s true that he had a dream involving Kageyama the night before, but the night before the switch had been dreamless. And besides, it isn’t the first time he’s had a dream involving Kageyama (not that he’d ever admit it out loud), and he’s never swapped bodies before based on that alone. And even if dreaming about a person had anything to do with it, he’s dreamt about other people before and nothing this crazy has ever happened then.

So what could it be?

  
  


The walk to after-school practice is a long one. It’s only the third time he has to play volleyball in Kageyama’s skin but he’s already dreading it even more than the first two times. Thank god they don’t have morning practice tomorrow.

Once they’re all dressed and ready in the gym, Kageyama drags him off to the corner of the court to practice jump serves.

“You need to start a little further back,” Kageyama instructs after the fifth time Kei flops and sends the ball into the net. 

“ _ Yes, Your Majesty, _ ” Kei says through gritted teeth. He can  _ not  _ believe he is letting Kageyama boss him around like this on the court. A fair payback, he supposes, for Kei’s attitude whenever he has to tutor him.

”Come on. That’s not the best you can do,” Kageyama remarks after Kei hits another one that barely scrapes the top of the net. The comment causes a vein to pop beneath Kei’s skull.  _ Not trying his best? What would the King know about Kei  _ trying his best _ ? _

Craning his neck, Kei plasters on a falsely sweet smile and turns to face him.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. Not everyone has your stamina or power.”

Kageyama frowns. “You’re in my body, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but thankfully not your mental faculties.”

Kageyama takes a step forward. “You—”

Kei raises his eyebrows, expectant. Kageyama’s fists clench and unclench at his sides; it’s clear he’s fighting hard to hold himself back from physically confronting Kei.

After a moment, Kageyama seems to deflate and shrink back. Grabbing another volleyball from the cart, he walks up and pushes it into Kei’s chest.

“Look. I really think you can do a proper jump serve. And it’s not just because you’re in my body,” he says. Scowling, he looks to the floor and grumbles as though each next word will cost him. “I’ve seen you pull off great plays when you’re on form. I can tell when you’re not giving it your all. So if you really want to win whether we switch back or not by the end of this week, stop messing around and get serious.”

Kei stares at him, both impressed and baffled by the amount of control and calm in Kageyama’s voice. Reaching his hands up, he grabs the ball from Kageyama and backs away towards his position behind the line.

“Wow. You must really want me to keep up your precious ‘genius volleyball player’ image, don’t you?” he asks before shuffling into the exact spot Kageyama had recommended and facing the front lines. Taking a deep breath, Kei arranges his game face and eyes the net. “Well, I make no promises here.”

He tries to picture in his head how Kageyama looks when he serves the ball. After all, Kei’s only seen it countless times.

_ Ready. Set— _

He throws the ball into the air, runs forward, and leaps up to meet it. The ball makes contact with his hand with a satisfying  _ thwack! _ and hurtles like a cannonball over the net. When it falls, however, it lands just barely outside of the line.

“Tch.” Kei grimaces on instinct. It’s hopeless, he’s never going to be as good at this as Kageyama is. “See? It’s like I said. I’m never going to—”

“Get better?” Kageyama smirks. Grabbing another volleyball from the cart, he spins it in between his hands. “You just did.”

He throws the ball at Kei, who catches it as it hits his chest.

“Just do thirty more of them with that same focus,” he directs. “The only way forward is up, right?”

Kei frowns because he hates admitting Kageyama is right.

“Yes,  _ Your Majesty _ ,” he mumbles before getting in position to do another serve.

  
  


By the end of practice, Kei’s hand is smarting and tinged with red. He’s sure someone like Hinata would rejoice at the feeling but after doing nearly fifty jump serves, he just wants to curl up and die. Once Coach Ukai dismisses them, he picks up his water bottle and towel and starts to head out.

“Kageyama! Hey! Don’t ignore me, Kageyama!!”

Kei stops and turns around, forgetting he’s supposed to respond to the King’s name. Hinata is holding a ball in his hands, his little tongue sticking out the way it always does when he’s eager.

Kageyama gives Kei a look behind Hinata, and Kei suddenly remembers they were supposed to practice setting the ball. On top of doing homework together. On top of  _ tutoring  _ him and finishing his own. How are they going to find enough hours in the day for this?

With a sigh, Kei turns back around, allowing the rest of their teammates to pass them by.

“Actually —  _ we _ were supposed to do a little extra practice today,” he scowls, eyeing Kageyama.

Hinata turns to look between them both, clearly shocked that Kei would stay for extra practice. “Oh. Well… can I join then?”

“No—”

“Yes.”

They both snap their heads up to look at Kageyama, surprised. Kageyama gives a small cough but holds his ground.

“It’ll be useful to have Hinata here,” he explains. “So yes. He should stay.”

“But—”  _ it’ll be obvious I can’t do the toss that stops! _ Kei wants to say. _ And Hinata would know it right away… _

“It’s fine,” Kageyama interjects, grabbing the volleyball from Hinata’s hands and spinning it between his own. Giving Kei a meaningful glance, he adds, “You said you were going to show me some pointers about setting when I asked so you weren’t going to use the falling toss as much anyway, right?”

Hinata lets out a little  _ “Ooooh Tsukishima is doing extra practice!”  _ Kei narrows his eyes as he frowns back at Kageyama, understanding dawning upon him.

“Right.”

“So that’s settled,” Kageyama says. Walking over to the middle of the court, he gestures silently for the two of them to join him. Kei and Hinata exchange bewildered looks before moving forward to take their positions.

“Ready?” he asks, fixing his eyes on Kei. Kei has a bad feeling about all of this but he masks his expressions and nods anyway.

Kageyama throws the ball up towards him. Kei’s eyes follow its perfect arc and he readies his hands above his head, doing his best to also keep track of where Hinata’s run up will be.

_ Here goes nothing… _

The second the ball makes contact with his fingers, Kei sends it up towards Hinata. For a moment, Hinata is suspended in midair, expression full of concentration as he assesses the toss. But then his face falls and he swings his arm fast at the ball. It slams down on the other side of the court but just barely makes it in the boundary line.

Kei clicks his teeth at himself.  _ Hinata’s going to know, he’s going to know, he’s going to— _

“Are you sure you’re okay, Kageyama?” he asks with a frown. It wasn’t necessarily a bad toss, but he and Hinata are nowhere near as synced up as Kageyama is with him. Kei really doesn’t know how they’re going to get around that.

The real Kageyama lets out a scoff and walks over to Kei.

“Give us a minute,” he tells Hinata out of the corner of his mouth.

He grabs Kei by the wrist and pulls him off to the side.

“Ow — what—?”

Kageyama holds Kei’s hand up between them and inspects his fingers.

“You haven’t filed my nails,” he states with an accusatory glare.

“Will you relax, it’s only been like two days since we swapped!” Kei hisses so that Hinata can’t hear.

“If they’re off by even a  _ millimeter _ —”

“Considering our situation, I’m sure something that minuscule is hardly the worst of our problems right now!”

“Well it doesn’t help that they’re getting long either!”

“I cannot believe you are scolding me about  _ nails!  _ What kind of freak are y—?”

“ _ Ahem _ … uh, guys?”

Startled, the two of them look up at Hinata. It’s only then that Kei realizes Kageyama is still holding his hand. Kei withdraws it quickly, feeling Kageyama’s touch still burning on his wrist.

With an impatient huff, Kageyama stalks away from Kei and heads back to his position.

“He’s fine,” he tells Hinata, sending Kei a meaningful glare. “He just—” Kageyama gives a flippant wave of his hand. “Let’s just keep going.”

But after a few more tries, Hinata doesn’t seem quite satisfied. Kei is trying his best, he really is. He just can’t quite achieve the exact same sharp precision that Kageyama possesses.

“Sorry,” Kei says on instinct after the twelfth time Hinata drops back down on his feet with a bewildered expression on his face. “Sorry, I—”

_ This isn’t going to work out. _

Hinata stares at him for a long moment, lips slightly parted and eyes studying Kei’s face.

_ He senses something is off… he knows he knows he knows he— _

“Something’s different about you,” Hinata says, his voice coming out hollow, on the edge of spooked. “And it isn’t just because of your toss.”

Kageyama gives him an alarmed look from behind Hinata. For a good minute or two, Kei holds the shorter boy’s gaze, forcing himself not to look away.

The moment seems to stretch on for an eternity: Hinata staring at Kei and Kei staring back. As much as he teases Hinata for having volleyballs for brains, Kei is forced to recognize in times like this that Hinata has much keener instincts than he could ever give him credit for.

_ Don’t tell him anything!  _ his instincts scream. And to be frank, if he were himself fully, in his own skin with his own unique relationship with Hinata, Kei wouldn’t have to owe him a single explanation. But this is Kageyama’s body he’s inhabiting and Kageyama’s strange and inexplicable friendship with Hinata he’s navigating. In spite of how much he’d rather say  _ screw it _ and act how he wants to act without giving a shit about how things might crumble in the fallout, Kageyama is right about the fact that they’re forced to struggle through this together; he owes Kageyama this much.

_ What would Kageyama say? _ a calmer part of his brain asks.

At long last, Kei sighs. He needs to say  _ something _ and given Hinata’s perceptiveness, perhaps the truth — or as truthful as he can get — would be the best course of action here.

“Look. I can’t explain it, but things are a little… all over the place right now.” He looks away, down at the gym floor. “So for the next few days, or maybe even more, things are going to keep being a little weird. It’s got nothing to do with you or anything, it’s just a problem I need to take care of. Until things are back to normal again, you just have to bear with the weirdness. On my end, I’ll be handling it as best as I can.”

Hinata tilts his head and raises an eyebrow as he processes this explanation. Kei can almost see the cogs turning in his head.

“Ohhhh-kay…” Hinata frowns. “So let me get this straight. You have a problem. And it’s bad enough that it’s affecting your play and maybe some other things. But even so, you can’t tell me what it is?”

“That… about sums it up, yeah,” Kei nods.

Hinata squints one eye at him. “Should I be worried? Is it something serious?”

“No!” Kei rushes to say. “It’s nothing that bad. It’s just — It’s my own issue, alright? Just don’t get into it. And trust me.”

Hinata blinks, looking taken aback. And then his lips curl into a small smirk.

“Alright then, Kageyama,” he says, giving Kei a gentle pat on the back. “Don’t worry, I can help carry your weight for a change.”

Kei narrows his eyes. “Excuse me?”

Hinata laughs and removes his hand, lifting his arms up in a posture of mercy. “Don’t be mad!”

“ _ Tch _ , comes a noise from behind them.

Kei and Hinata turn to Kageyama, his face downcast and looking pissed. Hinata frowns and points an accusing finger at him. “Do  _ you _ have something you need to tell me too?”

With a scowl, Kageyama replies, “No.”

Hinata lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well that’s a relief. I mean, you guys were  _ both _ being so weird yesterday and you've been spending more time together too! Even though I thought you weren’t going to take my advice.”

He points at Kei when he says the last  _ you _ , causing Kei to frown.  _ Advice? What advice? _

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kei tells him.

“And you also walked home together after practice last night,” Hinata continues without listening. “Yamaguchi said you two were going to do homework together, which I know you told me about but I still don’t get where all this is coming fr—”

Hinata stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide. He looks as though he’s been hit by a thunderbolt.

“Oh my god!” he gasps, clapping a hand to his mouth. Kei glares at Hinata in disgust. “Me and Yamaguchi’s wishes have started coming true!”

“What—” Kei says through gritted teeth, “the  _ hell _ are you talking about?”

“Our wishes,” Hinata huffs. “Which maybe you’d both know about if you came to the temple with us!”

“Huh?” It’s Kageyama’s turn to tilt his head in confusion. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

Hinata crosses his arms and pouts. “You two are always so uncooperative — both with others but especially with each other — that when we went to wish for luck for the match, we added a little prayer for you guys too, because we were hoping you’d start getting along better. I’m glad to see you guys are actually trying! So — huh… Whoa! Wait a minute! If  _ this  _ wish is starting to come true, maybe our wish to win the match will come true too!”

“Calm down,” Kei demands as Hinata starts bouncing excitedly on the spot. “That’s not how any of this works. It’s not magic.”  _ Why would they even bother with that nonsense? The whole thing is ridiculous. _ Something throbs at the back of his mind.

“You don’t know that,” Hinata says in a singsong voice.

“Shut up!” Kageyama interjects before Kei can respond. “Both of you!”

He points to Kei. “You — let’s switch.”

Kei gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

Kageyama walks up to him and claps him on the shoulders.

“Your turn to watch,” he mutters under his breath before pushing him aside and forcing them to exchange places.

Kei stumbles into the center of the court and whirls around, his face hot with annoyance.

“Would it kill you to be a little more gentle?” he grouses, gritting his teeth to hold back from adding the word  _ King _ in Hinata’s presence.

“Just throw the ball,” Kageyama commands.

Kei grimaces but he does as he’s told. Grabbing another ball from the cart, he tosses it up towards Kageyama.

It’s been an interesting experience the past few hours for Kei watching himself, his own body, play on the court. With his hands directly above his forehead, Kageyama studies the information around him carefully as the ball falls closer and closer, until, at the flick of his wrists, he sends it flying off towards Hinata.

Hinata swings and nearly misses, but he manages to score a point. Kageyama clicks his tongue anyway.  _ A little too high,  _ Kei can almost hear him say, but Hinata glances over at Kageyama, looking impressed.

“Whoaaa, not bad, Tsukishima!” he praises. Kei wants nothing more than to throttle him. “Come to think of it, I’ve only seen you set a few times in the last year and a half. When did you get so good? Gahhh I need to catch up!”

“Again,” Kageyama says, throwing Kei a meaningful look, which Kei takes to mean  _ ‘keep watching.’ _

One after another, they throw and toss the ball to Hinata. For the next ten minutes, Kei observes carefully. It’s hard to get a full assessment of Kageyama’s abilities without opposing players on the other side of the net, but in a strange way, it helps Kei learn a little better to watch his own body carrying out each toss. He can envision himself better this way, but the precision and rapidfire decision-making that goes on in Kageyama’s mind is still seamless and, admittedly, astounding. Kei is never going to be able to match up.

“Your turn,” Kageyama says after a few more rounds. Frowning, Kei huffs and walks over to switch places with him. He really has no idea how the two of them can sustain the energy required for extra practice like this. It’s only been about thirty minutes since the end of official practice and Kei is already more than tired. To avoid Kageyama giving him any shit about slacking off, however, he musters up every last ounce from his reserves and does the best he can.

(Perhaps he may need to strategically involve Yamaguchi or Ennoshita next time so that someone sane and with more command can yell at the other two to quit practicing so late.)

The rest of their time sees little to no improvement on Kei’s part, although he does manage to give Hinata one decent toss he’s fairly proud of. Hinata whoops when he scores and Kageyama gives Kei an approving nod.

“One more!” Hinata cries again.

“I’m done,” Kei says, lifting a hand to signify he is, in fact, actually done.

“What!” Hinata’s face falls. “But we’re just getting warmed up!”

Judging by Kageyama’s expression, the look of disgust Kei gives Hinata is incredibly uncharacteristic for the situation, but Kei doesn’t care. He’s had enough, and while he’s not sure if Kageyama remembers, they still have to do homework together.

“I’m leaving,” Kei announces. He catches a glimpse of Kageyama staring longingly at the volleyball cart and has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“I thought you were helping me with homework,” Kei hisses at him as he passes by on his way to take down the net. Kageyama scowls, looking conflicted while Hinata buzzes behind him. They’re nauseating, the both of them. Kei just can’t do it. He didn’t sign up for handling the two of them like this on the daily.

It takes a gargantuan amount of convincing, but eventually, at long last, Kei finally persuades them to give it up and be done.

After they clean up, go back to the locker room and change, they finally,  _ finally _ say goodbye to Hinata, who hops on his bike and rides away into the night.

Once he disappears off into the distance, Kageyama turns to Kei with a serious expression on his face.

“What?” Kei asks, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

“C’mon. We’re going back inside,” he announces before turning around and heading back up the stairs towards the club room.

“We — what?” Kei frowns, hurrying to catch up. Surely, Kageyama does not mean he wants to do extra practice without Hinata. “No, I thought we were going to do homework at my place.”

Kageyama cranes his neck back to scowl at him. “After we file my nails.”

Kei groans. “God, again with the nails! Can’t we do it later? Tomorrow even, perhaps? I’m tired.”

“It’s gonna bother me all night,” Kageyama grunts, opening the door and holding it open for Kei. “And I need you to keep filing them the way I tell you to. Every single day.”

“ _ Tch.  _ So demanding.” Kei rolls his eyes as he walks in. “Nothing less to be expected from a King, I suppose.”

“What was that?”

Kei’s lips curl into a smirk. It’s amusing when Kageyama gets riled up.

“If you’re really so insistent about this, you should have a royal servant file them for me,” he continues, taking a seat on one of the benches. “As someone who’s inhabiting the King’s body, it’s really what I deserve, wouldn’t you agree? I nominate Hinata.”

Kageyama scowls again and comes to sit next to him.

“If that’s what it takes,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Lovely,” Kei smiles. “Send him over every night after practice, then. I look forward to it.”

Kageyama’s frown lines do not disappear. He unzips the duffel bag next to Kei and digs around in it. A few seconds later, he pulls out the infamous nail filer and holds out his other hand.

“Give me your hand,” he mutters stiffly.

“Haah?” Kei reacts even though he had heard perfectly clearly. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” But before Kei can even respond, Kageyama reaches out and grabs his wrist. Kei’s face burns as the setter pulls on his arm until his fingers are directly in his face. His own palms are so much colder compared to Kageyama’s and he receives a strange squirming sensation at the pit of his stomach to feel the difference.

“I don’t think I have to explain  _ how _ to file my nails,” Kageyama says as he starts sanding down Kei’s index finger first. “Do I?”

“I know how to file my nails, thank you very much. I’m not a savage,” Kei grouses. “I just don’t obsessively maintain them down to the millimeter everyday like you do.”

Kageyama looks up from his hand to glare at him before continuing on with the task. “Okay, well… they need to be exactly  _ this  _ length by the time you’re finished.”

After a moment, Kageyama pauses and lifts the finger up for closer inspection, blowing gently over the nail to clear any excess particles. Kei sucks in his breath as Kageyama’s own grazes his skin, lips hovering over his open hands.

Apparently deciding it isn’t enough yet, Kageyama files the same nail down just a bit more, then leans back to examine the effect.

“This,” he says firmly, lifting his finger up between them. “This is the length you want them to be.”

“Okay,” Kei croaks. Clearing his throat, he tries again, willing the words to come out sounding much more normally. “Fine, Your Majesty.”

Kageyama purses his lips. “I’ll do the rest of this hand. You do the next.”

“Don’t micromanage me!” Kei snaps, but he doesn’t pull away when Kageyama starts filing his next finger.

For the rest of the time Kageyama works on his right hand, they don’t talk. Only the coarse sounds of quiet scratching fill the club room. There’s a look of intense yet calm concentration on Kei’s face that Kei’s sure he has never been able to achieve before they switched bodies. Head bent and eyes sharp, Kageyama files each nail with deep focus and intent. He knows the King only cares this much because they’re his own nails, but the piercing scrutinization sends a chill down his spine anyways and before he’s aware of it, Kei finds he has a hard time breathing.

“Okay,” Kageyama says after finishing the final pinky. Lowering Kei’s hand down, he places the nail filer in his palm and adds, “Your turn.”

Kei scoffs impatiently but gets to work on the other hand as promised. Even though he keeps his gaze on his nails, he can feel Kageyama’s eyes on him the entire time, no doubt watching closely to make sure Kei is doing the job correctly.

When he finally finishes, Kageyama grabs his wrist again and lifts it up for another inspection. After a few moments of the King looking highly skeptical that Kei could have actually filed his nails to perfection, he finally concludes that they are now satisfactory.

“Happy?” Kei asks, a teasing exasperation in his tone.

Kageyama looks away and gives a low grunt of approval. Getting up from his seat, he slings his bag over his shoulder and says, “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Weren’t you going to help me with homework?” Kageyama reminds him, one hand already on the door knob. “Let’s go.”

Frowning, Kei shoves any remnants of weird feelings out of his mind and picks up his bag before following suit. Kageyama is waiting for him downstairs when he steps outside to the cold night air.

“Still going to my place,” Kei reiterates as he passes Kageyama and starts heading in the direction of his home.

“Wasn’t going to argue with that,” Kageyama mumbles as he hurries to catch up.

They walk in silence for a long stretch of time, passing the rice paddy fields on their path away from school. Exhausted, Kei allows the entire day’s events to run passively in the background of his mind, absentmindedly aware of the sound of leaves rustling around them in the wind. Although day two of being in each other’s bodies hadn’t killed them, he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this. From disastrous volleyball practices and constant clashing with the King, he’s surprised his brain hasn’t split open by now. He still has to review Yachi’s notes before the night ends to make sure he’s caught up on all the lessons he’s missing. It’s already a lot, and Hinata being so  _ involved _ in their mix-up just adds another layer of stress and irritation to it all.

The thought of Hinata triggers a dull nudge in the back of his mind. Oh, that’s right, Kei had meant to ask…

“Hey,” he says.

Kageyama glances at him.

“What?”

Kei turns the words over in his head, trying to arrange the question carefully. Taking a breath, he plows on.

“What did Hinata say to you about me that I’m supposed to have ‘taken to heart?’”

Kageyama stops walking. Kei slows to a standstill beside him, studying his face, but the King’s expression is… inscrutable.

“How do you know it was about you?” he asks, keeping his gaze down on the ground.

_ Because I can read between the lines and put two and two together. _

“An educated guess,” he says. “Why? Am I wrong?”

His heart beats hard against his rib cage as he waits for a response.

Kageyama looks away and purses his lips. “Unfortunately, no.”

_ So honest. _

“As I thought,” Kei mutters. “So… what did he say?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Nothing that important really. Just—” he sighs. “He said the team is less cohesive when we fight, and that we should try to get along better. And maybe talk more. He seems to think our team would get even better if we did.”

“Oh.”

Kei frowns. Yamaguchi has been voicing similar sentiments. Who’re the ones conspiring against whom now? And to think that they’d been trying to convince him and Kageyama to go to the temple with—

His eyes widen.

_ No… no way. It can’t be. _

“What?” Kageyama asks upon seeing his expression.

“Oh my god… I didn’t even consider it when Hinata mentioned it earlier — I mean — by all logic, it shouldn’t even be possible and yet—”

“What?” Kageyama repeats more urgently upon Kei’s sudden freak out. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Without replying, Kei sets off at a quickened pace, eager to get home faster so he can do some research and think while Kageyama does homework.

“Hello?” Kageyama calls out from behind as he hurries to catch up. “Care to explain?”

Kei forges on ahead, deep in his thoughts. How could this have happened? What kinds of magic or power are at work in this world? Kei has never really put his faith or confidence in spiritual things — he can barely understand its logic, if there was any in it to begin with at all. But then again, Kei thinks as the image of Hinata’s bright smile fills his mind, Hinata has always been a force to be reckoned with. However simple, however dense, however brainless or single-minded Hinata might be, if there’s anyone Kei could believe could have the potential to win over the favor of gods, there is no doubt in his mind that Hinata could do it.

“Oi, answer me!”

A vice-like grip closes on his arm and without warning, Kei is pulled backwards, stumbling around until he comes face to face with his own self.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Kei snaps, glaring. Kageyama glares back, his grip tightening on Kei’s arm.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he demands.

Kei lets out an irritated sigh. “Yamaguchi and Hinata cursed us. Or at least — I think they did.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “Curse?”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Kei says, waving a hand. “Either way, they did something.”

Kageyama frowns, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Hinata — he said they went to the temple.” Kei grits his teeth. He  _ really  _ can’t believe it still. “Think about what he said. He said a victory in our next match wasn’t the only thing they wished for.”

He watches as Kageyama processes this information. Eventually, finally, Kageyama’s eyes widen with realization.

“Got there, have you?” he asks with an impatient tut.

“Are you saying—?”

“Yes,” Kei answers before turning around and picking up his speedy pace again towards his house.

“S—so, wait,” Kageyama calls out after him, hurrying to catch up. “What do we do?”

“Well first,” Kei says without slowing down for Kageyama. “We finish your homework tonight. Tomorrow—”

Kei stops walking, having finally arrived at his front gates, and turns to face him.

“Tomorrow, we get up early and go to the temple ourselves. Hopefully, by then, we can reverse the damage they’ve inflicted on us.”

Kageyama furrows his eyebrows.

“But I’m not really.. religious,” he mutters. “Are you?”

Kei sighs and shrugs. “Not really, but are we any less so than Hinata or Yamaguchi?”

“Dunno. Hinata is earnest,” he points out. “He trusts easily. I would know.”

“Fair point.”

It makes sense. Kei can remember the shock he and everyone present felt the first time Hinata spiked a quick from Kageyama’s toss with his eyes closed. Such pure faith. It’s sickening.

And yet, somehow, he can’t help the unpleasant lurch in his stomach that grips him at the thought that maybe the crazy duo share something that feels significant in a way he’ll never be privy to.

_ Stop that,  _ he berates himself. This is all so stupid. He’s in Kageyama’s body. Of course everything is confusing and muddled right now, especially any sort of physical feelings.

Kageyama sighs after a moment when Kei doesn’t say anything. “Still worth a try, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” Kageyama inclines his head. “Shall we?”

Kei winces at his inviting tone. Kageyama, in  _ his _ body, asking him to go inside  _ his _ house. Everything just feels so wrong.

“It’s not like I have a choice, do I?”

And with that, he forges on ahead and enters through the gates with Kageyama following slowly behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy early birthday to kageyama <3 now i am off to fully enjoy peru :) happy holidays everyone <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all, i'm sorry for such a short short chapter, but things have gotten so crazy since the beginning of the year and given how my summer session is starting soon, it may be a while before i can really get back into updating the next chapter in full :(( but i didn't wanna leave y'all hanging for THAT long so !!! please accept my offer of a short little chap with a heartfelt scene :) and thank you for sticking around!
> 
> <3333

☾

_ He's a real nowhere man _ _   
_ _ Sitting in his nowhere land _ _   
_ _ Making all his nowhere plans for nobody… _

Kei’s frowns and turns over in bed. His mind throbs in protest, threatening to drag his consciousness back down into deep slumber. That distinct feeling of not having had enough sleep nibbles at his brain but he can’t find it in himself to turn off his alarm. It’s still dark in his room after all.

_ Too early… there’s no morning practice today… _

He turns over again, letting the song play on.

_ He's as blind as he can be _ _   
_ _ Just sees what he wants to see _ _   
_ _ Nowhere man, can you see me at all… _

“Will you shut that thing up already?” calls a voice from somewhere below him, causing Kei’s heart rate to shoot up at once.

_ Oh. Right.  _ He’d forgotten…

With an audible groan, he musters up the willpower to grab his phone from beneath the pillow and silence it.

“It’s a good song,” Kei says defensively, resting an arm over his forehead as he closes his eyes again.

Given the closer proximity of Kei’s house to the temple and the early hour they had to rise, (and the sheer fact that he missed his own room,) he had elected to stay over for the night. Kageyama had coached him on the phone as he spoke to his mother about the matter and later, Kei had gone to his own mom to ask for extra blankets in his best impression of Kageyama’s typical deferential and polite manner. After finishing up their homework, he had begun setting up the spare mattress on the floor, fully intending to sleep there, when Kageyama asked him why he wasn’t going to sleep in his own bed.

“You’re a guest,” he explained. “I always let guests take the bed.”

To which, instead of giving a proper verbal reply like a normal human being, Kageyama had responded by wrenching the second pillow from his grasp and mumbling something about how it doesn’t feel right to sleep in his bed if Kei is present.

Not that Kei would have complained. He really does miss his bed. Although sleeping in it while in a different body last night had definitely been weird.

“What’s it about?” Kageyama asks after a long minute of silence.

Kei frowns. The question throws him off. He had expected Kageyama to snort and dismiss his peculiar musical tastes but instead, he’s showing… curiosity?

Kei turns over onto his elbow so he can gaze down at his outline through the dark. Complain as he might about inhabiting a different body, having 20/20 vision is really a blessing.

“Maybe if you brushed up on your English, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

He can just barely make out Kageyama, who appears to be laying flat on his back, scowling up at him. “I didn’t  _ have _ to ask.”

Kei lies back down on his pillow and sighs. Being snarky to the King is an automatic reflex by now. He doesn’t know how to stop.

“It’s just the Beatles,” he says eventually. “I always liked their sound.”

“Oh.”

Another stretch of silence. Kei finds himself wondering what kind of expression Kageyama is making. It takes a great amount of effort not to turn around and check.

“It’s called ‘Nowhere Man,’” Kei finally continues. “Apparently John Lennon wrote it when he was holed up alone one day. It’s more or less about someone who doesn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. It’s not why I like the song though, or why I use it as my alarm.”

“Why is it your alarm then?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed to fit.” Better to wake up to pleasant music than the piercing beeps of the phone’s default sound.

Kageyama doesn’t say anything to that. After another minute or two, Kei hears the ruffling of blankets that tells him Kageyama is sitting up.

“It’s 6:57,” he grunts. “We should get up.”

Kei stays lying down as he watches Kageyama stand up and stretch. His long arms nearly reach the ceiling and his loose shirt creases along the contours of his back. It occurs to Kei then that people don’t usually have the physical means to view themselves so directly from behind. Has his back always looked that broad? Or is it because Kageyama is inhabiting his own body?

“Oi.”

Kei’s eyes snap back up to the ceiling at once before he remembers Kageyama can’t see him properly without his glasses anyways — though from his periphery, he can tell the King is squinting down at him.

“I thought you said we needed to leave the house by 7:20.”

“Yeah.” Keeping his gaze averted, Kei reaches over to turn the bedside lamp on before sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. “On it.”

  
  


After brushing their teeth and getting dressed, the two of them make their way down the path leading away from the Tsukishima residence.

Now that October is progressing into the heart of fall, the mornings are starting to get chillier. It isn’t cold enough to warrant a thick coat but enough that Kei stuffs his hands into his pockets as he walks next to Kageyama, staring down at the ground. His eyes feel strained from the effort of having to keep them open, and Kei wants nothing more than to be back in his room, snug between the blankets of his own bed. Kageyama seems to be in a half-asleep state too, so together, they walk side by side in silence, neither of them saying a word to the other. In the rare, peaceful quiet that falls upon them now, Kei finds his mind wandering back to the club room from yesterday evening.

He knows it had technically been his own hand he was physically touching, and maybe it’s once again due in part to the literal out-of-body experience they’re going through, but for some inexplicable reason, the memory of his hand in Kageyama’s — or Kageyama’s hand in his — makes his stomach squirm like little tadpoles lapping up algae on the insides of his stomach.

Kageyama’s face had been close. Kei could see the intense concentration in his eyes as he focused on his nails. Sharp. Precise. Full of care. The way Kageyama is in everything that he does. Fingers nimble and light even as he cradles Kei’s hand in his.

Kei’s skin burns with the memory. He has Kageyama’s setter hands now but he’ll never be able to fully live up to them.

Being in a different body is strange.

Idly, out of the corner of his eyes, he glances over at Kageyama.

Upon seeing him, Kei has to suppress a laugh. His shoulders are scrunched up and his face looks pinched, presenting the usual constipated expression he wears when he’s displeased.

“Oi. What’s with you?” he decides to ask. With a deep scowl, Kageyama digs his hands even deeper into his coat pockets.

“What does it look like?” he snipes back. “I’m cold.”

Kei raises an eyebrow. “It’s not that bad out, it’s only—”

He pulls out his phone for the weather and frowns.  _ 15° C. _

“Oh.”

Normally, Kei starts getting cold around 17° C. When they stepped outside a few minutes ago, however, he hadn’t even noticed the temperature being anywhere below that.

“Why didn’t you put on a scarf or something?” he asks. It’s what he usually wears when the weather hits this low.

“I never wear a scarf during October,” Kageyama replies. “Didn’t think I’d need one.”

“You don’t usually—?”

And then it dawns on him. Of course Kei hadn’t felt cold when they left the house — because Kageyama’s body temperature is much higher than his own. It’s so obvious now that he thinks of it and he’s disappointed in himself for not realizing it earlier.

“Well…” Kei purses his lips, his eyes trailing down to the ground. In truth, he had rummaged around Kageyama’s room last night for a scarf, because it’s always been a habit to bring one in his bag starting mid-October in case it ever gets too cold for him at night. He still has the one he found in his bag now — a navy blue fleece scarf folded neatly at the bottom of the drawer — but it might be a complicated affair if they get their clothes mixed up on top of their bodies. If only he had thought to grab one from his room on their way out.

Kei stops in his tracks and sighs. He supposes he isn’t going to need a scarf any time soon anyways.

“Hey. King.” He opens his bag and digs around for the scarf. Kageyama stops and turns around, looking grumpy with his chin tucked in behind his jacket collar.

“You’re in luck,” Kei adds as he pulls out the blue fabric. Taking a step forward, he drapes it around Kageyama’s neck and folds one end over the other, creating a loose knot. “It isn’t much but…”

Kageyama stares back at him, his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted in surprise. It takes Kei a few seconds to realize his hands are still on the scarf. With a small cough, he lets go and turns away, continuing on ahead.

“I told you to take care of my body,” he mutters without looking behind him. He can hear Kageyama follow along. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t bundle up.”

“I didn’t know,” Kageyama replied, sounding annoyed. “Do you always get cold this easily?”

“Yes,” Kei frowns. “I know,” he adds as Kageyama opens his mouth to retort. “My peasant form is not up to your standards. Sorry.”

“I — that’s not what I—” Kageyama takes a deep breath then releases it. With a sidelong glance at Kei, he mutters, “Thanks.”

They don’t say anything for the rest of the way there. Other than a few early commuters on their way to work, it’s quiet all around them, with the occasional rustle of fallen leaves scraping the cement beneath their feet. The walk takes another fifteen minutes, by which time Kageyama seems to have warmed up and appears much more content. He loosens his scarf as they arrive at the entrance of the temple.

The wooden pillars of the  _ torii _ stand tall and reverent, beckoning them forward as they approach the front gates. Beyond it, a long stairway leads up the small mountain. Like every temple Kei has every been to, there’s a solemn air about the place, taking hold of the atmosphere before them. Although he hasn’t really done this whole prayer thing on his own before, he remembers going with his mother and Nii-chan a few times for new year’s eve when he was younger. Hopefully, between him and Kageyama, they’ll know enough to get by. 

Upon walking through the gates, Kei gives a small bow of his head, which Kageyama copies, following close behind. He wonders if he’s supposed to feel some sort of spiritual  _ feeling  _ while passing through to the other side but he’s not sure if he notices anything different within himself.

_ This is crazy.  _ Could their situation really have been a result of Hinata’s prayer being answered here?

Once they’re fully on the other side, they make their ascent up the mountain.

The purification fountain greets them upon reaching level ground. On any other day, Kei would prefer to bypass this step, especially because it’s cold today and the water is no doubt going to be freezing. One look tells him that Kageyama shares this sentiment, but Kei supposes that if they’re here to bargain with the gods, they may as well do every bit right.

“Come on,” he mutters to Kageyama before heading towards the basin.

They wash their hands and mouths with the wooden dipper, then proceed onwards towards the shrine.

“So any idea what we do next?” Kei asks as he dries his hands on his lap while Kageyama does the same.

“We put change in there,” he replies, pointing at a red wooden box at the entrance of the main haiden building where a thick rope trails down from a bell attached beneath the roof. “Then we ring the bell.”

They approach the haiden in silence. Kageyama rummages around in his pocket, frowns, then turns to Kei.

“You got any five yen coins?”

Right, of course. Everyone in Japan knows it’s better luck than ten yen. Kei starts digging in his own pocket before realizing these are Kageyama’s pants and he has no idea if there is any money in there (— there’s not). “Check my coin pouch. In my school bag.”

Kageyama reaches around to pull the bag zipper open. Kei stuffs his hand in and extracts his green pouch.

“How’s five of five for each of us?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Kei fishes out ten 5-yen coins and hands half of them to Kageyama. Together they bow their heads, then gently drop the offering into the red box. Kageyama pulls on the rope to ring the bell. Before Kei can ask what comes next, Kageyama bows deeply twice, claps his hands twice and closes his eyes. Keeping his palms together in a prayerful position, Kageyama falls into deep focus and reverent silence. Raising an eyebrow, Kei turns towards the haiden and follows suit.

_ This is weird, this is  _ so _ weird,  _ is all he can think after he performs the customary hand clap. What is he supposed to say to the gods?

He tries to imagine Hinata standing in his exact place a week ago, probably determined and eager for victory as he approached the situation. As impulsive and giddy of a person he is, what would he talk about in the presence of these ethereal entities? How would he have prayed?

At that moment, Hinata’s words from the night before echoes in his mind:

_ “...because we were hoping you’d start getting along better.” _

Apparently, that is the concern Hinata had prayed about. A mysterious mix-up of body-and-soul swap with Kageyama is what it subsequently resulted in. Somehow, the two things happening in relation to one another is supposed to make sense.

Kei sighs. Here goes.

_ Um… well. If any of you are listening (—of course they’re listening, Kei, that’s why we’re here) — ugh, sorry, let’s try this again. _

He takes a breath.

_ Please. I know this might be a lot to ask coming from me. I know I’m not the best human out here, but even I have to humbly admit I am dealing with an unknown that feels completely out of my hands. If there is indeed a power out there that I do not understand, that has placed us in this situation and swapped our minds (or bodies.. or souls…), then perhaps I can ask such a higher power to do the reverse. So… that’s why I’m here. Please… please change us back. I don’t know what else I can do. _

Cracking an eye open, Kei peeks over at Kageyama. He is suddenly reminded of an early memory when he came to the temple with Akiteru sometime in the first grade. Back then, he’d been clueless on how to properly proceed with the prayer as well. His dreams and hopes were simpler but he’d been even less sure of how to talk to the gods and had to watch Akiteru for how to behave next. He kept sneaking glances in the middle of prayer, wondering what Akiteru could be wishing for that was taking him so long. Similarly now, to his surprise, Kageyama still has his head bowed and eyes closed, looking deep in conversation with the deities. Hadn’t he said he wasn’t religious either?

Kei stays quiet as he waits for Kageyama to finish. Eventually, after a few more minutes have passed, Kageyama lowers his hands to his sides and bows once more.

Kei figures he should probably thank the gods for listening to close off his session as well so he bows after Kageyama does, then follows him down the steps away from the shrine.

They remain silent the entire descent down the mountain. The trees sway softly with the breeze around them, leaves rustling with the crunch of their footsteps. Although there are still so many uncertainties Kei has about prayer and higher powers, a solemn sort of serenity settles inside him as the winds die down. Despite his cynicism, he can’t help but wonder if there really is some magic in this place.

They reach the bottom of the steps without saying a word. The twin pillars that greeted them upon entrance now await them as they exit. Kei holds his breath on instinct as he passes through the gates to the other side. He’s not sure if it’s merely the wind picking up or whether going through a prayer ritual naturally brings about a wild desperation for hope, but this time, when Kei walks through, he swears he feels a mysterious presence wash over him, sending a chill down his spine that causes the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

Kageyama stops outside the entrance and turns around to face the torii. With his hands at his side, he gives another deep bow, then straightens up and starts heading towards the main road. Kei gives a bow of his own and follows Kageyama away from the temple.

Once they’re back on the main road, Kei feels that the sacred peacefulness of the shrine has dissipated enough for him to finally break the silence.

“Oi, King.”

Kageyama doesn’t answer, but Kei can tell he’s listening.

“How exactly did you… pray?”

Kageyama glances up at him, his eyebrow raised. “What?”

Kei looks down at the ground, feeling weirdly self-conscious. After asking it, he realizes that the question might have ended up being a lot more personal than he had intended. To his own surprise though, he finds that he genuinely does want to know Kageyama’s thoughts on the matter.

“You said you weren’t religious,” Kei continues, “but, back there — it looked like you knew what you were doing. So I just wondered… what was going through your head when you prayed?”

Kageyama looks away and shrugs. “I dunno. I did what we said we would. I asked for things to go back to normal.”

“But—”  _ You took longer than I did. _ “Why did you—?”

“And then I talked to my grandpa,” he finishes and leaves it at that.

Kei raises his eyebrows.  _ His grandpa? _

_ Oh.  _ In an effort to respect the Kageyama’s household’s privacy, Kei hasn’t ventured beyond Kageyama’s room to other areas of the house. As much as he enjoys giving Kageyama a hard time, he doesn’t want to be rude to his actual family. And anyway, it wouldn’t feel right to Kei anyway. A solemn silence persists throughout the house. Other than hearing his parents and a older girl he guesses must be his sister come home late every night, the only other family members Kei has registered at all is a framed photo of a genial-looking elderly man on the mantelpiece, which he’s passed by everyday this week on his way out the door.

So Kageyama had been praying to his grandpa. Huh.

Before he can ask any further questions however, Kageyama quickens his pace and forges on ahead of him.

“Come on,” Kageyama says without turning around. “Or we’ll be late for school.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you would like to come say hello or scream about hq with me, i can be found on [tumblr](https://lavendori.tumblr.com) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lavendori)!


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